Shadow Mission
by maxigrumpling
Summary: Actor Edward Cullen is rich, famous & sexy as hell. There's just one fly in the ointment.He can't keep the other personalities in his head straight.Emmett, his bodyguard, needs help sorting his charge out.Enter his 'crew', Alice the hacker, Jasper his second, Rose the shrink...and Bella, the girl who's father gave his life to protect Edward's. If only he remembered why.AH AU HEA
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: SM owns Twilight. Lets get that out the way right from the off. **

**Now, this is complicated, so hang in there...the words you are about to read are mine but the plot/storyline and the associated places/people and situations are not. They are the creation of my husband who knew he'd hit upon an idea that needed telling but wasn't confident of telling it himself. **

**Step in me!**

**So here it is. His idea. His plot. My words. **

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><p><strong>Emmett POV<strong>

The life of a professional bodyguard looks simple on the outside. An easy equation quantifiable by one simple edict. Make sure your mark is still breathing at the end of the day.

I've been guarding my mark for five years now.

He's still breathing.

I've guarded politicians, musicians and criminals too, but guarding this guy has been my toughest assignment to date.

What could be worse than a politician you might wonder? They get shot at, are high profile with their personal opinions and have their affiliations on display for all to see. They present a huge target. A very public one at that.

What could be worse than keeping groupies at bay from a musician you might ask? Sex, drugs and rock and roll and all that.

Who could be harder to protect than a career criminal from other criminals?

The simple answer is my mark.

He's an actor.

Don't get me wrong, he's one of the good guys. He doesn't play around, he doesn't drink or smoke anything that couldn't be inhaled at the same table as your grandmother and he's the consummate professional.

But...

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><p>The movie set is teeming with bodies.<p>

Hundreds of people scurrying from place to place all doing someone else's bidding. Cameras are rolling on tracks to my left, white hot lights are strung above me and the noise...the noise is deafening.

Right up until the director yells for his marker and then everyone and everything halts. The entire set is as though it's set in stone, nobody moving, nobody breathing loud enough to be picked up by a microphone. It's eerie and fascinating all at once.

My mark takes his place, checks himself over from head to toe, cranes his neck to stretch his muscles and then swallows thickly. This is it. The last scene on the last day of the shoot. What everyone present has been working towards for the last nine weeks. And it all comes down to this last shot.

The silence is deafening before the action begins, but when it does it's as though the apocalypse has descended on a tiny, square room in Hollywood.

Someone somewhere presses a button at a predetermined time and then everyone in the area holds their breath.

The high walls of the sound stage make the initial explosion twice as loud despite it being a controlled burn with no shrapnel expulsion.

The fireball that's been entirely engineered grows and then expands in a red glowing mushroom until it's touching both sides of the asbestos coated walls.

The roar as the flames lick the ceiling is captured on recording equipment overhead while the actual visual spectacle is captured on a million dollars worth of digital equipment that line the walls around me.

Debris begins to rain down all around. Pieces flying left and right with another million dollars worth of specialist video equipment tracing its path.

And out of the centre of this destruction my mark strolls. Yes strolls. Casually.

He walks dead straight, right ahead, with the flames roiling behind him and as he reaches the designated 'mark' on the ground a smouldering piece of cloth drifts down, still on fire, and lands at his feet.

My mark stops, right where he's supposed to, and nonchalantly takes a cigarette out of his shirt pocket. Right on cue he bends down and picks up the still burning piece of cloth. He uses it to light his cigarette and as everyone on the set holds their breath he delivers his line. Perfectly.

"I told you it was a smoking jacket, asshole."

There is a five second pause and then the director is calling 'cut' and everyone lets that held breath out. Including me. This last scene couldn't afford to go badly. The cost of the explosion, the cost to reshoot should my mark fuck up his line or any of a hundred other catastrophes that could befall the recording would mean another week or more on this movie, the fifth instalment of the series.

And nobody wanted that.

Everyone wanted it safely tucked away on a hard drive. They wanted it done, finished, complete. And that included my mark and I.

Twenty minions rush forward as my mark moves quickly away from the flames that are still writhing and seething even in the controlled environment. The workers blast their extinguishers at the base of the fire and within seconds it's been reduced to a heap of smouldering ash and useless props on the concrete floor.

My mark ignores it all, is oblivious to everyone and everything around himself because he's still in character. He's still the guy he's been portraying in this film for the last nine weeks. He's still James Goodall. He's still the spy. Still the agent. Still the guy who never has a hair out of place while the entire world is in flames in his wake. Still the guy who gets the girl and saves the world without raising a sweat.

The director sits beside me in his high backed chair, marking his clipboard and thanking people as they go by him.

"Let's go home," Edward Cullen, who still thinks he's James Goodall, says when he reaches where I'm now standing.

"Do you need to wait to see if the take was good?" I ask.

"Your boy's always 'on'," the director says without lifting his eyes from his pages, "He's never out of character. I haven't had to do a second take yet."

I want to tell him he has no idea just how right he is. Instead I keep my mouth shut and scoop up Edward's bag, hurrying to catch up to him before he makes it to the doors that lead from the sound stage and into the parking lot.

While he's still James he thinks he's invincible. He's not; it's just that he's the only one who doesn't know it.

I get him settled into the back of his car and then run around and get into the driver's seat. I back out of his designated spot and crawl along the lanes that wind through the lot. There are people pulling carts, riding golf buggies and moving large pieces of set decoration for the other films being made on the lot. It's a zigzag of movement, a hive of activity and its difficult and slow going getting out of there.

"I think we'd better get out of here before the police get here," Edward says from the back seat. "I'll call for a containment crew," he says, putting his hand between the front seats of the vehicle.

There's no way I'm putting a cell phone into that hand so I ignore the request. "I'm on it," I lie, with a straight face instead. "Let's get you home."

I watch him in the rearview mirror as his eyes shift from side to side and know what's coming next.

"Make sure we aren't followed. I don't want any stuff ups before we get to the rendezvous point," he tells me sternly.

"You mean the _house_," I say dryly.

"Don't say that so loud," comes his fearful response from the backseat. "This car might not be secure. Just drive man, just drive," he shouts as he ducks down.

I continue to crawl through the lot and when I get to the front gates I turn left into traffic and settle in for the ride home. I shake my head when I look back and can only see the curve of his neck in the mirror.

"The cells in your brain aren't secure," I mumble but he doesn't hear me. He never does.

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><p><strong>AN: Short, I know. But I'll be uploading the next chapter right away, so don't fret lovelies ;)**

**As I said up top, this isn't my story, just my words. I hope you enjoy it. **

**Thanks for reading, please review. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Emmett POV**

Living with Edward Cullen, when he's Edward Cullen, is a simple and easy thing. He's very neat, very clean and rather shy and unassuming. In short, for an actor, he's remarkably _normal_.

Living with him when he believes he's someone else is stressful. It's also nearly impossible to ensure his safety.

When I was guarding the politician I was paid to keep my mouth shut, my eyes and ears open and to ignore any snippet of information – either of a political nature or a private one – and keep the guy breathing. That was a simple thing to achieve because his political and private opinions didn't interest me. It was easy to just do my job each day and go home to my apartment of an evening.

When I'd been charged with keeping the musician alive my primary objective was to keep groupies from tearing my mark limb from limb while he was on stage and to keep my mouth shut when he invited them back to his hotel room after the gig. His opinions interested me less than the politicians did, so it was an easy task to do as I was told and go home after tours to rest and regroup before doing it all again a month or two later.

The criminal I took care of was even easier. He understood thuggery. He knew what it took to get a job done and He paid well. Very, very well. It went without saying – although he said it all the time – that I kept my mouth shut on those jobs too. I didn't like him personally and he probably didn't like me either. But that never got in the way of me doing my job and he never cared one way or another whether I cared about him other than as his mark.

Edward wasn't my first mark whose profession was acting. He was my third. I'd quit the first gig after just nine months when I'd been summoned from my nice, warm bed at three in the morning to 'fetch me a tissue from the table there, dahhhling'.

The very next morning I'd packed up my shit and gotten the hell out of Dodge.

Actor number two was better, but old. Seriously old. One foot in the grave old. He'd died in his sleep just two years into my contract and I missed the old bugger even now. I'd liked him as a person and he'd treated me like family rather than the help. His daughter still sent me a Christmas card every year.

Behind door number three is the enigma that is Edward Cullen. When I first met him he was twenty-four and he'd already gone a long way in his chosen profession, and since that day right alongside him has been me, making my own mark in my own career.

We'd both struck it 'rich' when we'd been forced together but in different ways.

With me he got someone who wanted to understand him, to help him not just guard him. With him I got a challenge, job security and a brother of sorts.

The 'of sorts' came into play when he was stuck. He got stuck when his brain wouldn't let him leave behind the character of James Goodall, when he couldn't make sense of who he was, who I was and what he was supposed to be doing. When life got too hard Edward Cullen checked out and James Goodall checked in.

When he was like that he wasn't my brother, he was my mark. He was also a pain in my ass.

Like today.

Five years down the track and I was still trying to work out a way to help him shake free of whatever was going on in his brain that made him several different people all at once. So far I hadn't even come close to scratching the surface of the problem and hadn't made great inroads into solving it either.

But I wasn't a quitter, except for that one time with that actress. But I believe that was justified and would've resulted in either her death or mine had I stayed on. So I stayed with Edward and did my best to get him through his days.

Today he was James Goodall. The lead character in the series of films he'd made his name in. He'd done other things, other films, a few plays too, but the Shadow Mission franchise had rocketed him to stardom. It had also signalled the beginning of the end for his mental health.

When he thought he was the real, live James Goodall he believed he was an enigmatic, ruthless international spy who was being watched day and night by some unseen 'bad guy'.

And today, for a change that was good news for me. I needed him busy and focused on honing his spying skills. Of course he didn't actually possess any real spying skills, but while he thought he did I could get shit done without needing to worry too much about what he was doing and where he was in the house.

Plus I've learned to take my chances where I see them.

Sometimes it's the only way to get things done when James is occupying Edward's brain. That's why I'd scheduled the final interview for my new apprentice bodyguard for a time when I knew Ed would be in the gym. It was in his house, and very safe, also monitored by both audio and video feeds that I had access to, so while he was working out I could get on with the business of the day.

When Edward thought he as James his routine was regimented, strict – and only that way because he himself set insisted on it - and if it could be helped I tried not to do anything to mess with it. It just wasn't worth it to have him sulk or to have to listen to another lecture from him about the detrimental effects of breaking his concentration.

So I made sure that the telltale clink, clunk, clink of the weight machine was clearly audible before I ushered the new guy into the house.

My office, or the Property Offensive Organisation and Logistics Response Observation Operations Management room, as James liked to call it, was right by the front door and I successfully got the new guy in there and settled without breaking that concentration.

James had informed me this was to be the rooms name late one night after he'd been 'thinking'. (Never good and always resulted in something I'd have to undo later) He announced that this room was to be known as the POOLROOM when anyone was in earshot that wasn't 'cleared'. Cleared for what only he knew, but I went along with it only because the name, whilst ridiculous, was better than what I'd have called it.

The Foul Air Retention Tank.

What can I say? I love burritos.

When Edward wasn't being James Goodall it was just called my office. It seemed a little boring but it worked.

The new guys name was Jasper Whitlock and he looked about ten years younger than his resume said he actually was. That could come in handy I thought to myself as I studied him across my desk.

As this was his final interview, he'd already sat through two earlier ones and hadn't fled screaming from them, there were only a few more things we needed to discuss before I offered him the job.

I did my best to keep some of my marks quirkier needs quiet but I did tell him what his daily duties would entail. He'd be responsible for a lot of internet research, fetching and carrying and the occasional bit of actual bodyguarding when we were needed in public.

I made it sound easy, and if the guy we were guarding was normal it would've been. But Edward Cullen wasn't normal and so the job wasn't going to be normal either. But I'd had eight of these apprentices in the last five years and not one of them had had the balls to stick it out long enough to learn the ropes.

They all ran screaming into the night after a few weeks, and in one special case, after the first eighteen hours. That had been a new record and not one I was interested in besting. It had also involved a length of rope, a bucket of pigs blood and interrogation techniques – administered by Edward as James Goodall – that would've made CIA operatives nod their heads in approval. The lawsuit had cost a pretty penny and was settled out of court.

But I needed a second. I needed help. I needed to train someone who I thought could tough out the bad days and someone who'd keep his mouth shut when he did finally get a good, clear picture of just what the real Edward Cullen was all about.

I hoped it was going to be Jasper.

"Do you have any objection to living on the grounds?" I ask.

"None," he replies easily.

"Your firearms licence, when does it expire?"

"I've only just requalified last month so I'm good to go for another eleven months."

"Ever lost your driver's licence?" I ask.

"Never."

"Speeding tickets?"

"None."

"Ever lost a mark?"

"No sir."

"Ever been fired?"

"I've quit, never been fired, no."

"Ever fired your weapon on the job?"

"Twice."

"Hit or miss?"

"Both hits."

"If you had to could you shoot someone in the face?" I ask carefully.

He thinks on it a second and I know then that the answer doesn't matter. If he needs to think on it he's not a blood thirsty gun wielding maniac.

"I don't know. I haven't had to yet," he says after his contemplation, but I've already moved on.

"How old were you when you had your first personal mark?" I ask, taking up a pen as though I'm going to write down his answer.

"Why are you asking me all this?" he asks sharply. "You'd have done a thorough background check, and checked my references. They must have all checked out otherwise I wouldn't be here for a final interview."

"I'm not asking them to hear your answers," I tell him flatly, jotting down some notes next to the question sheet I had typed out.

He studies me then. Eyes me carefully. "You're looking for my tells," he correctly deduces.

It's my turn to study him then. His posture hasn't changed since he sat his butt down in the chair. He's not sweating, shaking or stammering. His hands have stayed casually clasped in his lap the whole time. He doesn't twitch, fidget or fart, that I know of anyway.

"Are you aware whether or not you have any?" I ask.

"I've been told that I don't, so no," is his simple answer.

"I haven't seen any either," I confirm. "I need someone I can trust. Someone who won't sell what he learns to the highest bidder. You've never guarded an A-lister before and my guy is definitely A-list. You up for this?"

He doesn't answer quickly and that's smart. He's trying not to seem too eager or too overly confident. I like that. We both know he's there to learn from me, so seeming cocky won't win him any points from me.

"I have no interest in selling anything I learn. I'm not stupid; I know that would be the end of my career. I'd be blacklisted. As for never having guarded an A-lister you're right, I haven't. But even you had to start somewhere, right?" he grins.

I want to tell him I've been A-list since the off but it'd be a lie and starting a working relationship with an outright lie wasn't a good idea. So I tell him the truth.

"You're right. I started off watching a C-grade celebrity game show host, just like you did," I tell him with a grin of my own. "And yes, everyone has to start somewhere. So I'll take you on, teach you all that I know, but for now it's temporary, you're on probation," I warn him. "One fuck up and you're gone. History. And you've never met anyone who can carry a grudge as long as I can, kid. So don't fuck with me. We clear?"

"As glass," he says matter of factly.

I'm about to dig out an employment pack so he can fill out his tax and bank account details when the buzzer for the front gate goes.

I look to my left at the bank of CCTV monitor screens and see a petite dark haired woman standing by the squawk box in the driveway, on the street side of the gates.

"You're up," I tell Jasper as I get to my feet. "There's a woman at the front gate. Go and see what she wants. There's a real time audio and video feed out there so I'm going to watch and listen to you as you deal with her as it happens. Got it?"

"Got it," he says as he too gets to his feet.

I wait until he's through the front door and then I run to the back of the house to make sure that the weight machine is still in use. It is. So I run back to the office to watch on the screens as my new guy does his thing.

I hear him ask if he can help her. I watch her shift uneasily on her feet as she tells him she needs to speak to Edward.

I watch and listen, seriously impressed, as Jasper hands her a business card through the metal gate and tells her those are the contact numbers for Mr Cullen's management team.

I flick my eyes back to my desk and see that the card holder is right at the edge. He was smart to have seen them, smarter to have made himself aware of who's they were and seriously smart to take one with him as he left.

He was good.

I listen as the woman complains about having already tried to get into contact with Edward via his agent and his manager but Jasper isn't biting. He simply tells her that Mr Cullen is unavailable and that the only way he would be available was through his agent. He pointed once more to the card now clutched in her hand and then he very politely asked her to leave the property.

She was pissed but resigned.

He waited at the gate until she'd walked back down the drive and had turned left out onto the street and then he strode back into the house.

His ass is back in the chair opposite me for only twenty seconds when an alarm on the console by the monitor screens sounds.

"Crafty bitch," I hiss as I turn the monitor so Jasper can see it too.

We both watch as the woman walks along the outer edge of the property, keeping close up against the high brick fence that ringed it. She stops, looks around herself, waits for a passing car to clear the area and then she hoists her bag over her chest, sticks one toe into the mortar line of the brickwork and jumps.

"Shit," Jasper curses from across the table and I had to agree. "You want me to go stop her?" he asks but I wave that suggestion off.

"If you stop her from coming onto the property you can't have her arrested for trespass," I inform him. "Let's see how far she gets."

I lean back in my chair and watch as the woman jumps a second time, reaching for a low branch on an overhanging tree.

"I should've cut that back," I mutter as we watch her feet slip and skid as she tries to gain some traction.

She finally does and on one monitor I see her ass disappear up and over the fence and on another I watch her steady herself, prepare to jump down into the yard and then slip and fall. The strap on her bag catches on a branch and she's left dangling there, upside down and swaying, unable to let go lest she falls on her head.

"Jesus Christ," I mumble as I get to my feet. "Come on, we'll go retrieve her," I tell Jasper who's doing his best to hide his laughter.

We don't exactly hurry and by the time we get to the base of the tree her face is red like a tomato and she's cursing a blue streak.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Jasper drawls cheekily as he positions himself directly beneath her.

"Get me down," she hisses.

"You're trespassing," I remind her flatly. "We could use you for a piñata and there's nothing you could do about it."

"Get me down, please," she begs, her voice somewhere between a squawk and a sob.

"I'll cut her free, you catch her," Jasper says as he begins to scale the tree himself.

I step into the spot he'd occupied, directly beneath her, and grab her shoulders in readiness. "Easy," I tell her quietly as she begins to tremble. "We're not going to hurt you, honest," I tell her when she starts to cry. "I was kidding about the piñata."

"One, two, three..." Jasper counts down as he uses a penknife to saw through the strap on her bag.

I catch her easily when she falls, she's not heavy. I stand her onto her feet and watch her sway as she fights to get her balance back. The colour drains from her face quickly, leaving a rosy blush to her cheeks.

"Better?" I ask after a few seconds.

She dusts herself down, smooths her hair back behind her ears and snatches her ruined bag from Jasper before she turns tear filled eyes to me. "Better," she admits with a sniffle. "What now?" she asks looking from me to Jasper and then back to me.

"Let's have a chat indoors," I tell her as I grab her by the elbow. She tries to wrench her arm away but she's on my turf now and I grip it more firmly. "I said, let's have a chat indoors," I say a little more sternly and she gives up the tugging.

Jasper follows behind us as I lead her back to the path. I steer clear of the front door and instead I march her around the outside of the house and then in through one of the glass doors at the side. "Watch her," I tell Jasper who nods. "If she lifts an eyebrow shoot her," I say as calmly as I can.

He's not armed but the girl didn't need to know that. I watch as her face pales and her bottom lip wobbles and once I'm satisfied that she believes the instruction I rush off through the house. When I get to the gym I put my ear to the door and listen to make sure the clink, clunk and clang of the weight machine is still audible. It's not so I listen a little longer and little harder.

Silence where James was concerned was always a, well a concern.

So I to the only thing I can and run back to my office to flick the control switch so I can get a look at what he's up to from the monitor bank.

He's perfectly fine. Standing with his hands on his hips staring up at the punching bag that's hanging from the beam in the ceiling. He's got gloves on so I figure he's about to start pounding on the thing, which is good for me; he won't hear a damn thing while he's punching a fifty pound bag of sawdust.

I race back through the house, slowing down a few paces before I get to where I'd left Jasper and the girl, and then I saunter back to them as though nothing is out of the ordinary.

"Follow me," I say gruffly as the girl sniffles again. I walk ahead of her, Jasper brings up the rear, until I'm outside what used to be a living room but now holds just two straight backed kitchen chairs and a small table. "Take a seat," I tell the girl as she enters in front of me.

Jasper waits at the door, probably for my permission to enter, and my opinion of him raises just a little bit more. "The password for the laptop on the desk where I interviewed you is paradox with two x's," I tell him quietly. "Go to Outlook. You'll see contact information for Alice Brandon, use it," I tell him. I wait for him to nod though he's got no idea why I'm telling him this at this point. "Stay standing, aggressive stance," I tell him and he nods again, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorframe perfectly.

I march into the room like I'm Stalin minus the moustache and for dramatic effect I drag the unoccupied kitchen chair noisily across the parquet flooring, making her wince at the screech its feet makes. I turn it so that I'm able to rest my forearms on its back as I sit on it the wrong way around and then I study her carefully.

She's stopped crying but I can see that she's ready to go again at a moment's notice. She's no good to me a blubbering mess so I soften my posture and plaster a smile on my face.

"Now," I begin softly, "who are you and why did you climb my tree?"

"I'm so sorry," she mumbles, ducking her chin. "I just didn't know what else to do when he sent me away," she says with a slight nod of her chin in Jasper's direction.

"He sent you away because you didn't have an appointment," I remind her.

"I've tried to get one!" she argues, her chin jutting out defiantly. "But Mr Cullen's agent refuses to speak to me, let alone meet with me. I didn't know what else to do."

"Ms Denali is a hard nut to crack," I agree, thinking about Tanya and just how belligerent she could be. "But if your reason for wanting to see Mr Cullen isn't legitimate it's her job to deny you access to him."

"It is legitimate," she mumbles but I catch it.

"We'll get to that," I tell her firmly. "Let's start with your name?" I ask.

"Isabella Swan," she mumbles and my heart stops.

I do my best to keep my reaction to her name contained inside and I hope I've done a reasonable job keeping that reaction from her. "Well, Miss Swan, do you have any identification with you?" I ask as calmly as I can.

She digs around in the ruins of her bag and produces a driver's licence. I take it from her and call for Jasper. I put it in his hand and ask him to 'run it'. He grins, making the connection between the password and name I'd given him at the door and this request.

"On it, boss," he calls as he jogs out of the room as though he'd been asked to do it a hundred times. Another point in his favour with me.

"We'll just sit here and wait for Mr Whitlock to confirm your identity and then we'll talk about why you're here," I tell her.

"Are you going to call the police?" she asks with another sniffle.

"Not yet," I tell her truthfully. "I'd like to hear what you've got to say first, then I'll decide."

"I only want to talk to him," she mumbles.

"To Mr Cullen?" I ask, though I know already, just from hearing her name, why she had scaled that wall. She was desperate and I understood.

"Yeah," she sighs. "I'm not crazy or anything. I'm not a crazy fan who wants to steal his clothes or have him sign my boobs so I can get it tattooed."

"Why do they do that?" I ask, not realising I've said it out loud.

She quirks an eyebrow at me, "There's a Facebook page dedicated to the tattoo's," she half sighs half giggles.

"I've told him not to sign skin," I hiss to myself.

Jasper jogs back into the room then and her eyes go wide. He hands me her ID back as well as a print out of what he'd found. "She checks out," he says audibly as I read the report.

Jasper, who is standing right in front of me, cocks an eyebrow at me when I blow out a long held breath over my teeth. He'd caught my reaction to the report. He'd probably seen and catalogued my 'tells'.

I square my shoulders and before I look up from the report I settle my facial features into a neutral expression. "So, Miss Isabella Swan of Collier Street," I begin as I hand the card back to her, "what could you want to talk to Mr Cullen about so badly that you'd risk trespassing and your own personal safety for?"

She's regarding me carefully, her head tilted to one side as she stares. If she's her father's daughter in any way she's just clocked my 'tells' too.

"You recognised my name," she says matter of factly, proving me right immediately. I'm shaking my head but she's unperturbed by that and continues on, "You did. You balked when I told you my name and again when you read whatever is on that page," she says firmly, nodding to the page I'd put on the table between us.

"Alright," I confess, "I know who you are."

"If you know who I am then you know exactly why I'm here," she hisses, her tears and sniffling long gone now.

I study her for just a second. Her posture has changed. She's surer of herself, her shoulders are back and although her eyes are now clear and bright I can see the pain behind them.

"Let me ask you something," I say quietly as I lean forward over the chair, "Will knowing the details give you back your father?"

She sucks in a deep breath at that. Her eyes dart around the room as she thinks about what I've asked. Her fingers rhythmically clutch at the bag in her lap and then she settles and her eyes meet mine. "No, it won't bring him back to me, but I'll sleep better knowing what happened," she says evenly. "I can't stand not knowing any longer. I have a right to know and I have a right to know why Edward abandoned me afterwards."

I stand then, shoving the chair away. I tower over her, hoping to intimidate her a little. "I'll pass your request on to Mr Cullen. I know where you live, and when I have an answer for you I'll contact you there. Mr Whitlock, please show Miss Swan to the front gate," I say with a nod, indicating that the conversation is over.

She gets to her feet and I can see the defiance and anger on her face as she meets me at her full height. "I have a right to know," she spits at me.

I don't disagree but I can't tell her that.

"Make sure Miss Swan actually leave this time please Mr Whitlock," I say instead as I head towards the door.

She pushes past me, eager to leave and be away from me probably, and that's alright with me.

I wait until Jasper has her in hand and they are marching back along the path on the outside of the house before I let out the breath I'd been holding.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter to myself. "He's not ready to see her yet," I roar into the empty room. "He's not ready, I'm not ready and I doubt she'll ever be ready for this. We're just not ready for any of this."

**EPOV**

I drink the bottled water down hungrily. My workout routine is designed to keep me in tip top operative condition. I may be called on to conduct a mission at any time and I have to be ready.

Still hurts like a bitch though.

I see the glint of steel from the table and eye the gloves beadily. They were my latest invention and I'd been looking for an opportunity to test them.

I run to the door, put my ear to it, hear nothing and race back to the table. My household help were busy doing their jobs and that gave me the perfect opportunity to test the gloves in private.

I slip them on, fastening the wrist straps and tugging at them to make sure they are secure. It wouldn't do to slip out of them, after all.

I eye the steel girder that spans the ceiling of the gym. My punching bag hangs from it, as does my speed ball, but it's too low for what I need.

But the attachment on the top of the punching bag is metal, and solid. Perfect.

I stand beneath it, squaring my hips and shoulders so I can make the jump. I bend at the knees and force myself upwards, clasping the bags attachment in both hands.

"They work!" I cry in triumph as I release my grip and the gloves stay put.

**Emmett POV**

Ten minutes later I've calmed down and I'm sitting opposite Jasper back in my office after he's escorted Bella out the gate.

I'm about to start the debrief when he starts pointing at one of the monitors.

"If she's not actually left I'll..." I trail off as I swivel in my chair and look at the screen. "Oh for Christs sake," I mutter, getting to my feet again.

"What's he doing?" Jasper asks, barely stifling his laughter.

"He likes gadgets," I tell him as I go out the door. "They never work but that doesn't stop him trying."

I look at my watch as I head towards the gym. I'd last checked on him thirty-two minutes ago and if he's been hanging from that beam for even a portion of that time he's going to be seriously sore tomorrow.

"What are you doing?" I ask as I go into the gym.

"These gloves are brilliant," he beams down at me, "they do exactly what the packaging says they do."

"If they're so good why are you stuck up there?" I ask as I drag the weight bench across the room and position it under his body.

"I attached the wrist straps," he chuckles, "and I couldn't slip out of them. I forgot to read the instructions," he chuckles, "There's supposed to be an off switch somewhere, but I have no idea where."

I step up onto the weight bench; clasp him around the waist with one arm while I reach upwards with the other. I release one wrist strap and feel his body sag. When I release the next one I take his full weight and then step off the bench.

I set him on his feet but he's swaying precariously. "You alright?" I ask, trying so hard not to roll my eyes.

He's rubbing his wrists as he sways but he's grinning, "I'm fine," he tells me as he looks up to where the gloves are now dangling from the attachment at the top of his punching bag. "I wonder how long until the batteries run out."

"Go and clean up," I tell him as I push the weight bench back into place. "I'll be in my office with the new guy when you're ready to come and meet him."

"Office," he scoffs as I leave the room. "It's the property offensive organisation and logistics response observation operations management room!" I hear him shout as I head towards the front of the house.

Jasper isn't laughing when I go back into the office. He's staring at the other monitor, watching Bella.

"Why hasn't she left?" I hiss as I take my seat again.

"She called a taxi, it hasn't come yet," he tells me.

"I can't have her here," I mumble as I flick the switch on the other monitor so that the feed leaves the gym and goes to the hallway outside Ed's bedroom.

"You have a live feed in the whole house?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"It's for his safety and my peace of mind," I sigh.

"What's going on with him, and with her?" he asks, like I knew he would.

"I can't tell you anything yet," I say.

He regards me carefully and I wonder if this is the point at which he'll change his mind about the job. "Just so you know, I have no problem with anything that went on here today. She was trespassing and she deserved the interrogation. And I took to heart what you said about me keeping my mouth shut, but what the ever lovin' fuck just happened? Who is she and why did your ass cave in when you heard her name?" he asks matter of factly.

I tap my pen on the desk for a minute, getting what I can say and what I want to say in some order in my head before I open my mouth.

"You're right," I decide to tell him. I had to take a leap of faith that this kid was as discreet as his referee's said he was, and I needed the help he was offering by working for me.

"I did shit myself when she told me her name, that's true. And I want to be able to tell you why that is but right now, at this very moment, I can't. I don't know enough to say anything yet. I realise that makes no sense to you, and you're worried about what sort of job you've just accepted, but I don't know you well enough to share yet.

"I've been dealing with this, with him, for five years now and that woman showing up now is going to make our lives just that little bit harder, so if you want out now's the time to say. Before you're in any deeper.

"I can't give you the keys to the mansion on the first day, kid," I say sadly, meaning it.

He eyes me carefully as he leans back in the chair and folds one leg at the knee over the other. "Alright," he says eventually. "I don't mind being kept in the dark, as long as it's nothing that's going to get one of us put in jail."

"It's not," I assure him simply.

"Is he dangerous? To her or to me?" he asks astutely.

"Not a chance," I say truthfully.

"Is she dangerous?"

"Not that I know of, but I will be checking, again," I tell him.

"Which means you've checked before," he says, not posing it as a question.

"I have," I admit. "And I've never found anything untoward about her, just so you know."

"Do you have a list of who I should be worried about then?" he asks, and once again my opinion of him goes up a notch.

I unlock the bottom drawer of a nearby filing cabinet and take out a thick folder. I hand it to him but don't let it go. "Known, credible and improbable threats, in that order," I say as I let it go.

"Pretty big file," he mumbles as he begins to thumb through it. "You don't have to worry about this one here," he says as I lean over to read the case study, "He died in a house fire eight months ago."

"I'll make a note," I tell him as he hands me the sheet of paper.

"And this one is incarcerated," he says, handing me another. "This one moved to New Zealand and this one is incarcerated too."

I collect the pages from him and study them myself for a moment. "You don't mind if I check before wiping them from my radar, do you?" I ask.

"Go for it," he says without looking up. "This guy is a real piece of work," he hisses, pointing to a name on another sheet, "I caught him trying to scale the outside of a hotel building using Spiderman suction cup gloves he bought off eBay."

"He's tried that with us too," I chuckle.

"And this woman," he says, putting the page on the desk between us, "she has to be moved up the list to credible. She's on a waiting list for a firearm."

"Noted," I tell him as I mark the page.

This goes on for a good half hour, with him telling me what intel he had about some of the better known loonies who made a career out of stalking/harassing and generally attempting to insinuate themselves into celebrities lives.

With each passing second my estimation of him grew. He was good with names and faces, remembered details and quite apart from that I liked him.

He was calm, wasn't over confident, seemed willing to listen and to learn and he'd done well at his previous jobs. And best of all he took direction well and didn't ask questions until the time was right to ask them.

When we'd exhausted his cranial knowledge of the contents of my files – and if he could remember that many details off the top of his head I could only imagine what he was capable of with a database in front of him – we moved on to schedules.

"Ed's just finished the fifth in a series of movies so his filming schedule is blank for now," I tell him as I hand over another wad of paperwork. "He doesn't begin rehearsals for another month on the next one, but between now and then he's got a pretty full calendar of promotional stuff for the fourth in the series that comes out soon."

He skims the page, nods and sets it back on the desk.

"He doesn't move far," I tell him as I hand him a copy of the current day to day schedule. "Generally he's pretty happy to just be here in the house. But there are some things we do every week and some places he does like to go."

"What's your transportation set-up like?" he asks.

"If he moves I move with him," I tell him simply. "We have three vehicles at our disposal here and if it's possible we only use those. If we're travelling I arrange the transport, vet it, and then drive it myself."

"He doesn't use production company provided vehicles for promotional engagements?" he asks, looking up from the page.

"Not unless the production company insists, no," I say. "It hasn't been that much of an issue to date. For the past two years he's only worked on this series of films so it's been the same production company and the same director. He's such a cash cow for them now that they don't care what he rolls up in, as long as he rolls up."

"Sweet," he whistles. "What's his entourage look like?"

"What entourage?" I chuckle. "You're looking at it."

"Daily housekeeper?" he asks with one eyebrow raised.

"Me."

"Daily driver?"

"Me."

"Cook, chef, masseuse?" he chuckles.

"Not likely," I scoff. "Look, he's not into any of that. He eats plain food like a real human," I laugh, "so we cook when we feel like it and eat take out if we don't. There's no masseuse, no dresser or stylist, pedicurist or manicurist either. I send out his dry cleaning, a woman comes once a week to clean the bathrooms, change the sheets, shit like that, and the gardener comes once every two weeks in the summer to mow the lawns. Other than that it's me. And now you," I grin.

"I can cook a bit," he shrugs. "Delivery schedule?" he asks.

"Once a week I order groceries and supplies online and they get delivered yeah, but other than that not a whole lot comes in or out."

"Mail?"

"Vetted by me and then it's up to him what he wants to do with the stuff that gets by me."

"Management?"

"Tanya Denali. Ball busting bitch," I chuckle. "She comes by about once a week for a meeting and to hand over his appearance and shooting schedule but other than that we don't see a lot of her either."

"Parents, friends, siblings, cousins who drop by for drinks?" he asks.

"None of the above apart from one guy named Eric Yorkie who's a key grip he met on the first set of the first of this series of films. They hang out rarely, play Xbox, now and then they'll watch a game on TV or get a pay per view or something."

"So hardly anything or anyone comes in, he rarely goes out unless it's to the set or promo dates?" he asks cautiously.

"That's a fair assessment," I sigh.

"Sucks to be him," he sighed right back. "So what's his deal? Alcohol? Drugs? Both? He likes ladies underwear? Hookers? Scrapbooking?" he chuckles.

"Doesn't drink, or smoke anything other than nicotine, I wash his underwear and its perfectly lace and frill free and I can't ever recall him getting his dick wet on my watch," I say honestly.

"So the scrapbooking?" he chuckles.

I laugh back and shake my head no and when he realises that I've got nothing else to add he asks the question I've been dreading.

"On the surface this looks to be a pretty cushy job. Good money. He sounds easy to handle, doesn't venture far, works hard and stays home the rest of the time. No known vices. What's the catch, other than whatever is going on with Isabella Swan?" he asks.

"Wednesday's are the catch," I tell him sadly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Emmett POV**

We live in Crazyville. There are several mayors.

Within days of taking on the job of guarding Edward Cullen I realised that I was going to need professional help. Not for myself, for him.

Consider that there are hundreds, possibly thousands, of crazies all roaming the earth and that a goodly portion of them were all focused on snuffing out the last breath of my mark and you start to get an idea of just how difficult my job is.

Add to those the number of fans and the problem multiplies exponentially.

There are a few general types of fans who are focused on actors. They fall into three general categories.

Category A combines teenage girls and starry eyed older women. They scream and squeal at public appearances, send him encouraging notes in the mail and generally spend the equivalent of a third world countries GDP on movie tie in merchandise. They were generally harmless, as long as you didn't let them actually anywhere near the actor.

Category B comprises perverts, curious sexually repressed/obsessive's of either sex and internet devotees. They are quieter than category A fans, tending to stick to online forums and chat rooms to discuss the merits and attributes of their chosen star.

The members of this group spent hours photoshopping Edward's face onto their own family pictures and cropping him out of promotional material for their own sordid use. And then they upload those sordid creations so that others like them can 'enjoy' them. Sifting through them was not one of the nicest parts of my job.

This group wrote fanfiction and inserted Edward into scenarios and situations that no normal human being could be expected to exist. It made them happy, kept his name out there and they were harmless as long as they stayed on the internet.

Category C was a diverse group, taking in all the leftovers from A and B.

These were the fans who couldn't separate reality from fiction or refused to differentiate from what they saw on the big screen and what they saw of Edward in private (which wasn't much).

This category grew at the same rate as his fame.

After the first instalment of Shadow Mission, which was Ed's big breakthrough role, the A and B groups grew alongside the C's.

Category C member were scary. These were the people, because they were neither all male nor all female, who went to extraordinary lengths to get Edward's attention. They mailed him locks of their hair, pictures of their children they'd named either after him personally or after one of his characters and they were the ones who had his name, or his characters name, tattooed on their bodies. They camped out for days outside his home hoping to catch a glimpse of him coming or going. They sent him cards and letters begging for money/sex/auditions. And one particularly creepy fan sent him a vial of her blood.

But, these weren't actually the people I worried about protecting him from. Those three groups were fans and despite the strange, creepy and deeply disturbing ways they went about proving their loyalty to him they weren't dangerous. Just misguided and often lonely.

No, fans weren't an issue. It was the inhabitants of Whackjob City that were my biggest problem.

Whackjob City was a suburb inside Crazytown. A downtown area that looked normal, if a little rough around the edges. If you peeled back the net curtains and took a look inside some of the homes you'd start to see that not everything was A-okay. The inhabitants of Whackjob City had boundary issues, personal space issues and privacy issues too.

Of course some of the inhabitants from categories A, B and C did too, but the leftovers had some pretty intense ways of acting on those issues.

These people were the ones who stalked, who rummaged through trashcans whilst wearing webbed socks like Ninjas. These were the people who took pot shots at him at film festivals and smeared their own faeces on the gates to his home to 'mark their territory'.

They shoved and pushed and tore at his clothing if they happened to slip through security and found themselves close enough on red carpets and opening nights.

They haunted his agent's office, hounded anyone who appeared to be his friend and trawled the seedier side of the internet looking for other likeminded whackjobs.

These people were definitely not harmless.

They spent their money thinking up ways to get close enough to my mark to do him bodily harm. They travelled across country when he did. They few around the world when he did. They turned up in hotels, spas or in restaurants when he did. They dressed like him, had surgery to look like him, and practised his mannerisms and speech patterns. They harassed anyone who didn't share their 'love' of him or his character and they were volatile and unpredictable.

And these were the hardest people to recognise in a crowd because they looked perfectly normal. They sometimes looked just like one of the teenage screamers. They blended in perfectly with the bored housewives and they hid the creepier sides of their personalities well.

It was these people I had been hired to protect Edward from. But it wasn't Edward himself who'd hired me, it was Tanya Denali.

The original ball buster herself.

A woman with the reputation of being able to reduce grown men to whimpering, shuddering blubbering messes.

The woman who was credited with single handedly 'inventing' more stars than anyone else on the planet.

With a voice like nails on a blackboard if you'd annoyed her but with the face of an angel Tanya was agent to the stars, manager from hell and my own personal nemesis all rolled into one strawberry blonde casing.

She hated me with the fiery passion of a thousand suns these days, but when she'd recommended me for the job of guarding her 'invention' she'd tolerated me. Sort of.

The old guy actor I'd been guarding had died and Ed had already completed the first Mission film, his fame and his career was about to really take off, so as I was between jobs Tanya had thrown us together.

During the first few months of guarding him I changed everything about his situation and that had started the animosity between myself and Ms Denali.

We'd had some pretty heated 'discussions' about how to protect him the first weeks of my appointment and our relationship had never really recovered after that. Tanya tolerated me because I kept her cash cow alive and I tolerated her because...well, actually I hated the bitch but for the sake of the kid I made it look as though I tolerated her when in reality I loathed her.

In those first few weeks I'd insisted on a separate security budget, apart from the household budget that Tanya had allocated for me to use from Ed's fortune, and that was the first thing we'd clashed over. Second was the need for that budget to be doubled and the third major cause for discord came in the form of Edward's housekeeper at the time.

Jessica had been hired by Tanya to take care of Edward in his home and for the first few weeks that I lived there with them she seemed pretty fantastic. Caring, understanding and competent.

But it wasn't long before I started noticing the cracks in her persona.

The first blip on my radar was that the grocery budget never balanced. All the receipts from the stores she visited on his behalf were supposed to be left in a folder for Tanya, who collected it weekly and gave it to Ed's finance group.

For the four months prior to me taking the job the receipts didn't balance, the finance team had attempted to ask the question, Tanya had asked the question of Jessica in person and whatever excuses she gave were accepted.

I asked the same questions in the first weeks myself and even I bought the bullshit she was selling.

And then I noticed things going missing. Little things and nothing of any real monetary value, like his hair and tooth brushes. Items of his clothing couldn't be located and even though it was Jessica who did the laundry she couldn't lay her hands on those items when he asked her to.

Pictures of him in the yard and in the pool of that first house appeared on social media and it was that that drove me to checking her out more thoroughly. The pictures were clear, far too clear for a start. The angles of those photos showed them as having been taken from the ground, not from above or from an overlooking building – of which there were none at his first property.

Plus if the pictures had been taken by a journalist they would've been appearing in print media, gossip magazines and newspapers. But they weren't. Only on social media.

I checked out the username and the origin of the connection used to upload them to the various sites and apps and wouldn't you know it? Jessica Stanley owned the accounts and she'd used Edward's own wifi to upload them! From his house!

She had to go. Tanya and I fought about it long and hard, even after I outed the whiny little bitch's habit of selling his private things on eBay she wouldn't hear of the girl being fired. She was afraid of the backlash if the girl went to the press with her story. I wasn't.

I told Jessica that Ed's management team had had a shake up and that everyone on his staff had to sign a confidentiality agreement to continue working for him. She signed it, I fired her before the ink was dry on the form. She cried. I threatened to sue if she opened her mouth.

I won. Tanya was pissed and had been ever since.

A week later I'd hired Kate, a forty-seven year old mother of three children who had all recently flown the nest. She was a registered domestic cleaner with an agency who guaranteed her work and her ethics. She was bound by the agencies confidentiality agreement and also by the one I'd shoved under her nose on her first day. She happily signed it and she'd happily cleaned for us ever since. Even when we moved to a newer, bigger, more secure house Kate continued to work for us.

She was quiet, unassuming and left us little care packages of homemade cookies and cakes.

Once I'd made myself clear to Tanya that Ed's safety and privacy were my territory she backed off. Not completely, but she knew she couldn't bully me and eventually she stopped trying.

After that it was just a case of me learning who and what my new mark was.

It was a learning curve of biblical proportions and one I know I'm still not finished with.

Soon after I began guarding him Ed started filming on the second movie in the Shadow Mission series and I got my first taste of him as James Goodall.

I learned a lot about him during that period, about how his brain worked – or didn't – and a little about what had made him the way he was. But I needed to know more in order to reverse the transition he'd made from outgoing, sociable Edward Cullen to the reclusive, illusive and barely coherent boy he had turned into.

So I needed help. Not because Ed himself wasn't coping being threatened constantly – because he mostly didn't know that he was – but because guarding him in the mental state he was in when I started was going to be impossible.

After coming to the conclusion that I needed to find a shrink for him I sat down with trusty Google and searched locally for anyone who had more than a dozen reviews from people who could at least spell. Grammar was optional.

At first I just called their offices but soon worked out that just because the receptionist sounded professional and astute didn't mean that the shrink would be.

After dozens of fruitless calls I decided that the only way to vet them would be to make an appointment for myself, attend and get my 'head shrunk' and choose after that.

I avoided the shrinks who took on only celebrity clients and discarded the ones that looked and sounded crazier than my guy was. That left me with three options.

Option one was Dr Stephan Micor who dressed like a mafia mob boss and spoke with an obviously fake Brooklyn accent at our first introduction. He spent the entire session talking about himself, how his childhood had made him into the man he was now and how he could teach me to treat my past as a tool. He was the tool.

Option two was Dr Jane Vasilii who looked quite normal when we met but called me thirteen times after the first meeting. That's thirteen, one three. What was she calling for? To beg me to let her treat Edward Cullen. She was nuttier than the ones I was trying to protect him from so she was out too.

Dr Rosalie Hale was the last on my list. The first thing that struck me about her was that she answered her own phone. She took her own appointments and asked pertinent questions _before_ scheduling a session with me.

I met with her that first time with a picture in my head of how it was going to go. She'd sit me down, try and rummage around in my head, pronounce me mad as a cut snake and send me on my way with a prescription for mind altering drugs and a warning to change jobs.

To my surprise it didn't go that way.

She did sit me down but that's as far as my preconceived notion matched the reality. She asked me questions, real questions about why I thought I needed professional help and what I'd already done to help myself before reaching out for it from a professional.

She made notes, didn't lecture or over dramatise the made up scenario I'd gone to the appointment with. She advised me to go home and make some lists about other things I could change in my lifestyle that would help me achieve my goals and then she called me a bullshit artist of the highest order.

She'd seen through my made up problems and called me on it. She threatened me! Told me not to waste her time and then she promptly told me she'd call security if I didn't leave.

She was just what I needed. A tall, leggy blonde bombshell who went off like a firecracker and who took no shit from anyone. Including a black clad bodyguard with two concealed weapons in his jacket.

That led to me spilling my guts about my mark and his problems.

But not before she'd offered me a free session for myself saying I had 'issues'.

She had me at 'you closed minded moron' and that began our five year association.

It also began the five year obsession I had with the woman. She was tough, driven and the total opposite to every woman I'd had anything to do with on a personal level in my adult life. She was also dead certain that while she was Ed's therapist any personal association we might want to have had to wait. I was still waiting.

It took a good amount of convincing on my behalf to get her to treat Edward at all. It also meant I had to pay three times as much as her other clients.

To treat Ed she had to keep open the session before and after his, effectively cheating her out of two more fees. I topped it up. She was worth every cent.

Getting Edward to go was easy, by that point. He was so trapped in the persona of James Goodall that the mere mention of Rosalie being a 'contact' and he was in. He'd treated her like his spy contact ever since. It would've been funny had it not been so sad.

I learnt early on that appointments on a Monday were a no go. You got all the crazies on a Monday who had spent the weekend drinking themselves into depression and who had busted up with boyfriends/girlfriends/parents and all the relationships in between.

Equally bad were Fridays where all the crazies had their meltdowns after the stresses and pressures of a working week made them seek the solace of the therapists couch.

We went for the middle ground and Wednesdays became therapy days.

No matter who Edward was 'being', no matter if we were on a set, a sound stage or he was needed at a meeting Wednesday afternoons were set aside, always. Even when he was travelling I made sure that he was present at the Skype session Rosalie agreed would suffice for his appointment.

I couldn't afford for him to miss his session. It made the following week unbearable and it set his progress back if he missed even one of them.

So there were no negotiations. No change of routine. No reschedules allowed. No whining, griping, threatening or argument would be entered in to. And those were my rules, not his. Given the chance he'd bunk off every week, even if he was being himself, but I always insisted and I always physically took him to Rosalie's office personally.

From two fifty five to three fifteen I met with Rose to give her the lowdown on his mental state before his appointment.

From three fifteen to four fifteen Edward met with Rose. She was a clinical psychologist who specialised in personality disorders. She didn't work specifically with actors, or even high profile patients, she was just a psychologist who had a specific interest in that field.

At first she led the sessions so she could get a feel for what his major issues were. And there were plenty. After a few weeks she started asking to see me first, to gauge how good or bad his week had been and to find out which of his personalities she was meeting with that day.

After two months she knew each of his alter egos by name and by quirk.

After six months she was seeing a therapist herself to cope with the stresses of seeing Edward, and probably because of having to deal with me too. I paid for that as well.

After the first year she had special stationery made with each of his 'names' printed across the top. At the beginning of the session she put a ring around which version of Edward had shown up.

After eighteen months she had pinpointed the pattern that was emerging in his behaviour.

After four years she was as desperate to learn what had happened to him to cause the problems he now had as I was.

And now, at just over five years since his first appointment, I was about to tell her that another piece of the puzzle had fallen into our lap.

* * *

><p>Jasper had shown up for work despite the baptism of fire he'd gotten the day before and I was grateful. Not pathetically grateful. I was a bodyguard, not a soft and fluffy bunny lover. So I was just plain grateful that he showed up.<p>

I had already prepped him on where we were going, even though I omitted why we were going, so he was in the waiting room with Edward while I had my regular pre-appointment brief demob with Rose before Edward himself would be called in.

"How is he this week?" the perfect, platinum blonde asks from behind her desk as I sit opposite.

"No change," I tell her sadly.

"And who will I be seeing today?" she asks, her pen hovering over the top of her specially printed pages.

I hated having to tell her who he thought he was at each visit. I was fed up with not making any significant progress. I was tired of covering for him and I was terrified I wouldn't find the answers I needed before Isabella Swan undid the tiny, baby steps he'd made so far.

"He's been James all week," I mumble. I watch her put a red ring around the name on the top of the page and sigh.

"It's unusual for him to stay James for a whole week, isn't it?" she asks.

"It has happened, but not for a long time. I think it's because the film wrapped a few days ago and he's living out the ending still."

"Is he eating and sleeping?"

"Normal," I tell her.

"Any other changes, besides the film being completed, that you think may have had an effect on him, to make him need to stay James all week?"

"I've taken on another new bodyguard, Jasper Whitlock, and Ed has decided he's probably a spy."

"I see," she says evenly as she writes. "That could account for it. Is Mr Whitlock aware of Edward's issues?"

"Not yet, no," I sigh.

"Alright," she says, still writing. "Probably best to keep it from him until you are sure you can trust him."

"That's what I thought."

"Okay then. Bring him in and we'll get started," she announces.

"There's just one more thing," I hedge, "Bella Swan showed up at the house yesterday demanding to speak to him."

The shock on her face is probably a mirror of what mine looked like yesterday. "Did she? Did she speak to him?"

"No way," I tell her. "I hustled her out of there quick smart."

"She got in?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

"She sort of fell in," I chuckle. "But Ed was working out in the gym and he never knew she was there."

She studies my face for a moment and then nods firmly. "What is it you'd like me to do with that information?" she asks.

"I think it's time for you to lead him back to five years ago. I need him to start being prepared to see her. In case they meet some other way, or she manages to find a way to get to him that I can't stop. I don't want him flipping out if he comes across her in the street."

"He doesn't go into the street," she tells me.

"You know what I mean," I growl, getting to my feet. "If they come face to face and he loses his shit..." I trail off.

She takes a deep breath and sets her pen down. "Have you considered that if they do meet it may jog his memory and lead him out of the darkness he's found himself in?"

"I have thought about that, and you know I want him to remember what happened that day, you know that," I remind her. "I've spent five years helping him remember. And if he does and it helps him break out of the cage he's put around his mind then I'm all for it. But if it doesn't, if it makes it worse, if whatever happened that day is so terrible, so awful, that remembering it breaks him totally..."

"It'll break you too," she finishes for me.

I can only nod. I can't speak. My throat has closed over and my eyes are stinging, so I just nod.

"Alright. I'll lead him back there."

**EPOV**

The new guy was good. Very good.

He didn't twitch, tap, knock or sweat by the looks of it.

They'd sent a bad guy after me that for all the world looked like a good guy, for a change.

I strung him along as we sat in the outer office. I stared him down. I looked into his eyes and calculated all the ways I could kill him. I noted his height and weight, the approximate length of his reach and the size and weight of the shitkickers on his feet.

I could take him.

I could take anyone.

I'd been trained for moments like this. Trained in Feng-shoo, the art of disembowelling someone with a popsicle stick. I didn't have one on me, but there was a stack of ten year old magazines on the table between us, so I could always roll one of those up and beat him like a dog.

I eye him steadily, keeping my pupils purposely dilated like I'd been taught, but he didn't budge. He was good. Very good. But I was the best.

I upped the ante.

I tossed my lighter, quickly calculating that its trajectory would have it landing near his left boot. At the very last nanosecond he swooped in, snatched it out of the air, cocked an eyebrow at me and then put it onto the table between us.

He was posturing. I knew I had him then. I'd bested him in a game of wits and made him react. He was unhappy that I'd won our first game. He shifted uneasily in his seat. He was flustered.

I'd easily distracted him with the lighter fake-out and could've disarmed him and had my hands about his throat in a heartbeat and he knew it. I'd bested him. I'd won this battle of strength and wills.

"Rosalie is ready for you," Emmett called as he stuck his head around the door.

"Is the room all clear?" I whisper as I go towards him. He nods, our secret signal. "Watch him," I whisper as I nod towards the new guy.

I go inside once he's given me another secret signal nod. Rose is there waiting, as she always is, pen poised as she waits for me to give her the details of my recently completed mission.

"Come on in, have a seat," she says, another secret signal to let me know that she was ready to get down to work. "What's happened for you in the week since I saw you last?" she asks.

That was Rose, straight down to business, no niceties. She was the best operative I'd had assigned to my care in a long time.

"I wrapped up the mission a few days ago," I tell her as I recline regally on her sofa. "The threat was easily neutralised. I recovered the missing documents and delivered them safely to the contact," I report as she writes my communiqué down.

Rosalie was a go between. Someone who wasn't quite capable of being a ruthless, enigmatic spy like myself, but quite capable of taking notes from one. "So you wrapped," she says as she scribbles on her pad. "I'd like to talk to you about something new today. I'd like you to tell me about what you were doing five years ago. What can you tell me about your time with Charlie Swan?"

I'm on my feet in an instant. She'd been 'got to'. Someone higher up was asking questions.

I scan the room, looking for the telltale signs of bugging devices and recording equipment. The table lamp is unusually bright and I quickly deduce that must be the source of the bug. I tip it up, search for the tiny transmitter but the lamp base is curiously clear.

I pull the drapes back, run my fingers along the edges of every surface and search under the desk. Nothing.

"We're clear," I tell her. "You don't have the clearance to know about five years ago, or Charlie Swan," I tell her firmly. Sometimes she needs a firm hand.

"So you acknowledge that you know the name?" she asks.

"I acknowledge nothing. You're grasping for information I don't have," I tell her impatiently.

"I think you're wrong," she says defiantly. "I think you know. I think you do have the information and I think you don't know how to tell it."

"Like I said, that's classified."

"If I get clearance will you tell me?" she asks craftily.

"If I knew anything I would tell you. If you got clearance," I add on the end, knowing she'd never pass the tests to get it like I had. Plus, if she had clearance I wouldn't need to tell her, she'd have access to the files for herself.

"But you do know who Charlie Swan is?" she asks next.

I regard her carefully for a moment. I relax my posture, cross my legs like any good European gentleman would, and then I smile. "I've heard the name," I say blandly, not giving any indication that I did or didn't. She wouldn't catch me out. I was the master at mind games.

"In what context have you heard the name?" she asks coquettishly.

"You have some clearance," I reply charmingly. "Otherwise you'd never have heard his name before. I know that you know that I know that he was an operative too," I tell her, making my own brain trip up on itself in my haste to show her my extensive vocabulary skills. "I might have been on a mission with him once, a long time ago. He dropped off the face of the earth five years ago after another mission. I just know his name hasn't shown up in any files since then."

"Do you know what his mission was?"

"Nobody does. The files were destroyed. I've checked. Whatever he was working on was so secret I don't even have the access to the information, if there is any left to have."

She looks pained when she looks up at me from her notepad. "Alright, let's move on. Did you know Charlie Swan had a daughter?"

"No I didn't know that," I tell her truthfully.

"She's a little younger than you," she tells me, but I don't understand why when I've already admitted I didn't know the girl.

"We don't speak about things like that on missions, you know that Rose," I scold her.

"You worked with her dad, he must have mentioned her," she persists.

I get to my feet. I've had enough of her line of questioning. It doesn't pertain to the mission I've just completed and her interest in an operative that dropped off the radar years ago is a little worrying.

"Where are you going with this? Who told you to ask me these things? What do you know about Charlie Swan or his missions?" I demand.

"Times up," Emmett announces as he comes barrelling into the room.

I glare at him. I turn that glare to Rose but she's still writing on her pad. "I should write you up for this," I warn her sternly. "I don't like having to pull rank, Rosalie. I'll let you off with a warning this time, but don't delve into things you don't have clearance for."

With that I stalk out the door and return to the outer office and the company of Jasper, the spy.

**Emmett POV**

I'd paid to have a panic button installed on the inside arm of Rosalie's chair years ago. She rarely had to use it but I wasn't surprised she'd needed to today.

Getting Edward to think back to the time before I guarded him was never going to be easy. Getting him to remember the details of that time had proved all but impossible and we'd been trying for all of the last five years.

"He was more agitated than usual," she tells me once Ed's left the room. "He had no visible reaction to the mention of Bella but he did when I mentioned Charlie."

"Well that's something at least," I mumble.

"I'll keep trying, keep asking, but when he's being James it's hard to get him to think past being a spy I'm afraid. He won't be led to the timeframe and he won't open up about that time when he thinks my asking is something to do with a mission I shouldn't know about. I'll try again when he's himself," she tells me sadly. "Unfortunately he's going to continue to switch to the James persona as a mental defence."

"Thanks for trying," I tell her.

"I'll keep at it. He's getting worse, not better, and if the re-emergence of Bella is as pivotal as you think it is the time is right to press forward more aggressively," she says.

"It is pivotal," I sigh.

"Take him home and let him sleep this off. A good night's sleep and he'll wake up as Edward Cullen again, like he always does on Thursdays," she reminds me with a soft smile.

"I hope so," I smile back. "We'll see you next week."

* * *

><p>Jasper is just as agitated as Ed on the drive home. I can practically hear the cogs turning in his head, the questions forming, the demands taking shape.<p>

I'd been through this before. Wednesday's tended to separate the cows from the sheep on this job and Jasper was going to be no different to the others. He'd been witness to Ed's strange behaviour, the chink in his psyche, and he'd want to know what the fuck was going on.

With his predecessors I'd told them to keep their mouths shut, stop asking questions and get on with their jobs.

Some had balked but complied. One had fled screaming into the night with the words 'I'm going back to culinary school, fuck this shit, fucking celebrity bullshit'.

I didn't blame him.

Jasper was going to ask the same questions. His mind worked differently to the others though, I could tell that already. He was a strategist, very logical and very accepting.

I was going to lay my cards on the table and see what I could make of a hand of useless singles. He'd either stick it out or flee but I had no choice but to include him now.

My time had run out and taking the softly, softly approach wasn't working anyway.

With the injection of Bella Swan into the mix I knew enough to know that the time had come to really start digging.

If there was any chance to get Ed well again I had to be cruel to be kind.

"He's out to it," Jasper said from the passenger seat.

I look in the rearview mirror and see my charge slumped in his seat, a little drool falling from his lip to his shirt.

"It always wears him out," I reply simply. "We'll get him home and into bed and then we'll have a beer, yeah?"

"Oh yeah," Jasper replies, "I think I'm gonna need a beer for this."

"I think you might too," I agree as I pull the car in through the electronic gates.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading.**

**Please review. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Emmett POV**

We had a simple meal of steak and fries, with Ed almost asleep over his plate, and then convinced him to get his head down.

He didn't argue. He never did on Wednesday's. I heard the shower come on as Jasper and I cleaned up from dinner and not long after we'd finished we heard his bedroom door close.

"He'll sleep it off," I tell Jasper as I lead him towards the back of the house.

I tell him to have a seat at the bar and slide a beer across its surface to him. I crack the top off mine and pull up a stool opposite. I sip it slowly and wait.

I don't have to wait long. He's itching to ask.

"Who does he think he is?" comes the question and it makes me balk.

It wasn't exactly what I expected. "James Goodall," I sigh. "Today he thinks he's the spy James Goodall."

"Does he ever know that he's Edward Cullen?" he asks before draining the bottle in his hands.

I get him another, knowing he'd need some mental lubricant to fully comprehend what I had to tell him. "Sometimes he does, though it's getting less and less," I say once he's cracked the top off the next bottle.

"Who else?" he asks.

"Who else what?"

"Who else does he think he is? If there's one alter ego there might be more," he shrugs.

"Christ," I hiss, rubbing my face with my palms. "One more, but he doesn't slip into that persona often. Only when he's seriously stressed. I'm sure you'll meet him soon."

"Because Bella Swan showed up here?" he asks.

"You got it," I mumble.

"This'll take all fucking night if you're vague," he snarls. "Look, I'm not running for the hills, I want this job. But I need to know what the fuck's going on or I can't protect him from himself or anyone else," he says firmly. "You've said you don't know much, and I don't understand how that can be, but if you tell me what you do know maybe I can help you sort it out?"

It felt like I'd waited an age for someone to say that. For someone other than Rosalie to offer to actually help me with the problem rather than just wiping their hands of it and finding someone easier to guard.

I grab another bottle for myself and get comfortable; this was going to take a while.

"I'll tell you what I do know for sure first. Then I'll tell you what I suspect," I begin. At his nod I clear my throat, "Five years ago I was guarding a really old bloke, he died, natural causes, and I was between jobs. Tanya Denali called me and offered this one. I took it.

"Ed wasn't this bad when I first started," I sigh, feeling for all the world like I might have made him worse somehow myself. "He was quiet, too quiet, and apart from going to the set and sleeping he didn't do much of anything else. Even this solitary thing he's got going on now is worse than what he was like when I first started.

"Tanya gave me little to no background and I just assumed that this was the way he'd always been. He wasn't all that famous back then, a bit of an unknown who'd only just scored the role in that first Mission film.

"Tanya told me that his previous bodyguard had died and that ever since then he'd been very insular. She said I wasn't to worry about it, that he'd snap out of it if he plunged himself into his work, and I believed her.

"But it became pretty obvious that something else had happened. No, maybe not something else, but something big. Something traumatic. He was terrified all the time. He hid, even in his own house. He didn't socialise, with anyone, and if he could avoid interacting with anyone he'd do it.

"The only time he was semi normal was on the set. That first movie in the series sort of cemented him in the industry but it also cemented the idea in his head that he actually was James Goodall, the international spy.

"At first he only stayed in character while they were filming. On short breaks between scenes he reverted to himself. At least I think he was himself," I sigh.

"So you've never actually met the real Edward Cullen?" Jasper asks.

"I have no idea," I tell him honestly. "He was already like this when I took the job. I don't think that even Edward Cullen knows who the real Edward Cullen is."

"What about people who'd known him before his bodyguard died?" he asked.

"I've never found one to ask," I sigh. "Let me keep going, we'll talk about all that at the end, yeah?"

"Yeah," he sighs before taking another swig of his drink.

"So he's filming that second movie in the series and as it goes along he stays in character longer and longer. By the end of the shoot he _is_ James Goodall. There's no demarcation line at all. Between takes, between scenes, in the dressing room, makeup room and even here at home he's James Goodall.

"I thought he'd shake it off once the film was wrapped but he didn't. Oh, he did eventually, but it took weeks. Then he was just this silent, depressed sort of kid who shut himself away in the house and spoke to nobody if he could help it.

"So I went to Tanya, asked her what to do, asked her if he'd snap out of it himself. She said he was perfectly fine and reminded me that it was my job to protect him, not analyse him.

"So I ran with it. I mean, if they kid wanted to believe he was a spy who was I to tell him he couldn't be, right?"

"Right," Jasper agrees.

"So we cruised along like that for a couple months. I thought it was a bit eccentric but Tanya wasn't concerned so I let it go.

"Then one day he wakes up and he's Ed again. I think great, he's snapped out of it. We had two months break before he started filming the third one in the series and for that whole two months he was Edward Cullen.

"And then the director took ill and the shoot was put off. It was only for another two weeks but Ed flipped out. Started screaming about his mission being compromised. He insisted that someone was sabotaging his work, that someone had 'gotten to' the director," I tell him, using my fingers to make the quotes. "And then the shoot was put off again because the director didn't recover. He died on the Friday morning and Ed had gotten it into his head that he was going to start shooting again on the Monday and when that didn't happen he flipped his shit."

"That was when the third persona showed up, right?" Jasper asked.

"Yeah," I say sadly. "That was my first meeting and it scared the shit out of me. One minute he was Ed, then he was James and then he was someone else."

"So stress combined with a little paranoia, the after effects of whatever happened with his previous bodyguard had left him like this and you decided he needed professional help. Step in Rosalie," he correctly deduces.

"Right," I tell him. "She's seen him every Wednesday for the past five years and so far we have the sum total of diddly squat to show for it."

"Nothing?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip."

"Okay. That tells me what to expect from him now but it doesn't explain why you can't find anyone who knew him from before," he says.

"It doesn't," I agree, "and I wish I could tell you that I knew why, but I can't. He doesn't exist. Anywhere. There is no record of Edward Cullen existing before he signed the deal for that first movie. I have no clue where he came from, what he did before he got the role, before he turned up here in Los Angeles, and neither does Tanya."

"I call bullshit," he mutters darkly.

"I fucking checked," I start to protest but he holds up a hand and I stop.

"I'm not saying _you're_ lying, I'm saying she is. There isn't an agent or manager on the planet who doesn't know where her client came from. She'd know every skeleton in his closet. She'd know where he was born, who he's slept with and whether or not he'd done anything prior to getting that role that would jeopardise her future earnings off his back."

"I know," I sigh.

"But she's saying squat," he guesses correctly. "Do you think she actually knows and it's bad so she's not saying?"

"The public record about her involvement with him starts three weeks before he won the role in the first film. I was hired to take over from the dead bodyguard a couple years later," I tell him. "Prior to that there's nothing. I can't prove one way or another whether she knew him before that time, and whether she's responsible for erasing his previous life, which lets face it, happens a lot in this business."

"It does," he agrees. "But usually the reason for the erasure doesn't leave the client unable to work out for themselves who they are," he spits.

"No, it doesn't," I agree. "And nobody who might know wants to talk because they all make money off his back," I say darkly. "Tanya won't spill because whatever it is she's hiding might be impossible to put back in the box if it comes out. Her client might be blacklisted or shunned and there goes her access to the golden goose."

"What about his parents? Siblings? Former friends?"

"If they're out there they haven't tried to contact him," I say sadly.

"That you know of," he hisses as he takes the last swig of his beer. He gets up and gets us two more and then he sits back down. "You've got this place locked up tight. Nobody who shouldn't be allowed in comes in. Anyone who wants access to him has to go via Tanya," he says matter of factly.

"Yeah, so?" I ask, not following.

"Its simple isolation strategy," he shrugs. "She's hiding information. She knows which players will upset her meal ticket so she controls who has access to him. Isolate, control, gain."

"Simple," I mumble as I stare at him. "Impossible to reverse though."

"True," he agrees. "It would be different if you knew who was trying to get access to him, and then you could just keep Tanya out of the equation and approach them yourself."

"Impossible," I mutter again.

"Ahhh," he grins, tilting his bottle towards me, "but someone _has_ approached you."

"Bella Swan," I sigh.

"Charlie Swan's daughter, right?" he asks and I nod. "Any chance she knows what happened?"

"That's why she's here, because she doesn't know either and she wants to."

"There'd have to be a police report," he says with a shrug.

"There is. I've read it and it says diddly squat too. Generic bullshit about a homicide citing an unknown assailant."

"How was it ruled homicide then?"

"The three bullets in his body sort of gave it away," I sigh, knowing that was going to pique his interest.

"He was gunned down?" he asks and I nod. "In front of Ed maybe? Pretty traumatic."

"He wasn't there, according to the report."

"You don't sound convinced," he says, eyes narrowing.

"I don't sound convinced because I thinks its bullshit. Charlie was shot three times. Chest, gut and head. His body was found in the trunk of Ed's car, by Tanya Denali no less. With Ed nowhere in sight," I shudder. "She made the 911 call and she was there when the cops arrived."

"His agent found the body? And Ed wasn't at the house? But his car was at the house? Man, this gets weirder and weirder. Was another bodyguard employed at the time?" he asks.

"Not that I've ever been able to find out," I tell him straight up.

"Makes no sense. The marks not at the house but the bodyguard is."

"It was my first indication that something wasn't kosher," I admit. "A bodyguard never, ever leaves his mark. It's the first rule. I didn't know Charlie Swan personally but he wouldn't have left his man alone elsewhere without taking on a second to secure him."

"Okay. Leaving that aside, what was the schedule for the day of the shooting? Is there another explanation for why Charlie was alone?"

"I can't find any of the schedules for that time. It's as though there weren't any, right up until the day I took on the job."

"Alright, I don't suppose you happen to know why Tanya was at the house?" he asks.

"The police report says she was there to get Edward to sign some contracts," I tell him.

"But she makes his bookings, she'd have known he wasn't there," he says, eyebrows creased.

"I thought that too. So I always figured she was lying about that. He was either there and she hid him before she called the cops, or he wasn't there and she really doesn't know anything other than what was in her statement to the detectives."

"If it smells like shit," Jasper says matter of factly.

"It's probably shit," I finish.

Jasper's quiet then. He stares at me a moment. Takes a swig from his bottle and then squints at me. "Let me get this straight so I know where we're at. The guys bodyguard takes three bullets and is found in the trunk of his marks car? The police report says fatal gunshot wounds, no known assailant. How the fuck did this not end up in the press?"

"Because Tanya kept Ed out of it," I sigh. "Without Ed at the scene and out of the equation it was a simple homicide. Nothing to do with her client. He was questioned, obviously, but by the time the police did question him he was catatonic. I assume he's never been the same since."

"You think its possible Ed killed his man?" he asks.

"Not a chance," I tell him truthfully.

"Even though his brain isn't working right?"

"Even though."

"But you said yourself you have no clue what he was like before you got the job. He might have been a homicidal lunatic."

"If he was there's no evidence of it. Nobody's ever pointed in his direction for anything violent or named him in any sort of suit that I can find, so the chances of him being a lunatic before becoming Edward Cullen I figure are pretty slim. Plus, I'd know if someone I was guarding was a lunatic, living this close to them, day in day out. So it stands to reason that Charlie Swan would've known too so no, I don't think Ed's capable of having done it," I tell him matter of factly.

"Did he gain anything from his man's death?"

"Bella got his entitlements as his next of kin. Ed paid for the funeral himself. Ed got nothing, and rightly so."

"And Bella never questioned any of it?"

"There was an official police report. They released his body for burial and as far as anyone else was concerned Charlie died on the job. And it's seen that way only because he died at Ed's house. As far as everyone believes Ed wasn't there and Charlie wasn't actually, physically guarding him the day it happened. The only thing anyone was told was that he'd been shot."

"Well Bella obviously doesn't have any idea what happened either, otherwise she wouldn't have shown up here asking the question."

"Five years down the track," I point out.

"Yeah. That is odd. Why now?" he asks.

"No idea, but I'm gonna find out."

"Why?" he asks suddenly and I balk.

"Why what?"

"Why are you hell bent on helping him? What's it to you?"

I think on that for a second, getting straight in my head how I want to word it.

"That kid," I say, nodding to the left in the direction of Ed's bedroom, "he's a good guy. His bodyguard was shot, leaving him all alone. A couple days later he was sent back to work. Nobody tried to help him. Nobody cared what it did to him. Nobody wanted to deal with that because it might mean an end to his earning capacity.

"I've spent five years with him. I've lived with him, eaten with him and held him while he pukes. I didn't know Charlie Swan personally but he was one of my own. A bodyguard just like you and me. He deserves better than what he got."

He regards me for a few seconds. "Fair enough," he says evenly. "There are three options as I see it," he says. "One, ignore Bella and avoid her. Two, set up a meeting between her and Ed and hope it sparks some memory or three, you go and see her yourself and find out what she knows."

"Option one isn't actually an option. It's not fair to her and I don't think she's going to let it go if she's determined enough to scale a fence and fall from a tree. Option two will have to happen eventually, I think. So for now I say we go with option three. I'll call her in the morning."

"I want in," he says out of the blue.

"Dude, after what I've just told you you're already in deep."

**EPOV**

For some reason I always wake up groggy and fuzzy in the head on Thursday mornings.

I never remember why but suspect I drink. Alcoholics have black outs and I can only describe my symptoms as just that, blacking out with no recollection of what's happened the night before.

Emmett always assures me that I'm fine. That he always watched me the night before and that he'd never let anything happen to me, he'd never let me go too far, and I believe him.

I've got a headache and my chest is thumping as though I've run a marathon in my sleep.

A shower doesn't help and I emerge from it feeling hungover. I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror and don't recognise the face that stares back at me.

I look old.

I don't bother shaving. I'm on hiatus from filming and I can be scruffy if I feel like it. I don't feel like it, I hate being unshaven, but my hands are never steady enough to try on a Thursday morning.

I throw on some sweats and a t-shirt and make my way to the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee greets me, as do Emmett and the new guy Jasper.

"How'd you sleep?" I ask as I pour myself a cup.

"A good night," Em says. "Kate's coming this morning," he reminds me, but I know my own schedule well enough by now. "Jasper and I are going to run out and pick up the rest of his things from his parents house while she's here. What are your plans?" he asks.

I want to laugh. I never have any plans. "I think I'll swim while the weathers good," I tell him as I take a seat at the kitchen counter where I can spread out the newspaper.

I hear the scrape of their chairs as they stand. "We won't be long, call me if you need me," Em tells me.

I wave him away, happy to have the place to myself while it's quiet.

It doesn't last long. Kate lets herself in and joins me in the kitchen.

"Good morning, sir," she says hesitantly.

She'd cleaned for me for five years but in all that time she'd never really loosened up. She always seemed wary of me and I had no idea why. She had always come on a Thursday morning and I'd never been anything other than polite to her. Her wariness bothered me.

"Good morning, Kate," I say with a wide smile. "How are you today?"

"Very well, thank you, sir," she whispered before scurrying off to the butler's panty to collect her bucket of cleaning supplies.

"I've got a bit of a headache, as usual, thanks for asking," I mumble to myself as I tidy the newspaper and set my coffee cup in the sink.

I go back to bed. I close the drapes and hide under the covers, desperate to shake off the headache.

I dream of dark, horrible things. Of blood dripping, dripping, dripping. Of my skin being coated in it and tasting it on my lips and tongue.

* * *

><p>I wake an hour later feeling much better. A spy never needs much sleep. We wake to a pin being dropped and sleep for just a few minutes to recharge our batteries. It's all we need we are so finely tuned.<p>

I make my way to the back of the house, past the gym and the library and into my experimental spy armoury. To the untrained eye it looks like a spare bedroom, but for those of us trained in the ways of the spying arts it's a lab.

The bed, desk, chair and lamps are good cover.

I open the bottom drawer of the dresser and take my secret box of gadgetry out. I set the whole box on the bed and take out only the shoe box that contains my latest experiment pieces.

I settle at the desk, turn the lamp on and angle it so that I can see clearly. I open the drawer and take out my precision toolkit.

The pen itself is ordinary. Just your standard issue blue biro with a cap.

The tiny taser isn't ordinary at all. I'd ordered a dozen of them from an online shop and although it worked just fine on its own I wanted to be able to conceal it better. It wouldn't do to be caught in a civilian situation with a taser, after all.

So I'd surmised that the best concealment would be to insert the tasers mechanism into an everyday object. Something that common people would carry on their person on a day to day basis.

I'd thought about a wallet, but during the experimental stage I'd tasered myself in the ass and hadn't been able to sit comfortably for three days.

Next I'd tried concealing the wires into my watch strap. The tingling in my fingers had made it look like I had Parkinson's.

Then I hit on the idea of the pen.

A common object. Something almost everyone carried. It wouldn't arouse suspicion if I was captured and patted down and it was the right shape and size to take the mechanism.

I withdraw the pens ink chamber carefully and set it aside. I'd already dismantled several of the tasers and had a collection of their various components set out for use.

It was simple to wind the coil of wire around the ink chamber and secure it with a dab of glue. The spring slid back over the chamber easily and with my expert spy training I was able to rig the pen cap so that with a double press the tasers trigger mechanism would activate.

With the pen reassembled I stash my toolkit back into the drawer and clear the surface of the desk save for a single sheet of white paper.

I was excited to be able to test my latest invention. I set the nib onto the paper and with my free hand clicked the pens cap just once to make sure its original functionality still worked.

I expected to doodle something on the page. The ink refused to flow.

I began tapping it, to moisten the nib.

There was a soft buzzing sound followed by a loud pop.

I did not expect the wire coil to heat up as the taser prepared itself for use.

I did not expect that ink, when heated, expands.

I did not expect the ink barrel to explode.

I did not expect to see a blue man in the mirror of my bathroom five minutes later, but I did.

**Emmett POV**

"What's the protocol for leaving him alone in the house?" Jasper asks as we drive towards Bella's house.

"He has a shadow for the times when I need to leave him there," I tell him. "His name's Sam Uley, you'll meet him Friday night when we debrief and plan for the following weeks movements."

Bella's house was exactly what I imagined it to be. Neat, tidy, small.

I'd kept an eye on her finance situation for years and even though she'd collected her father's entitlements after his death no other large sums went in, or came out of, her accounts.

It had always pleased me, despite knowing that she did it tough some months when her bills came in. I had always been happy to know that she hadn't profited from her father's death in any way.

"Did you call ahead?" Jasper asked as we pulled into her drive.

"No need, she'll be home at this hour," I tell him as we get out of the car.

"Just how much do you know about her?" he asks as we make our way to the front door.

"Enough to know she's home at this hour," I grin as I raise my hand to knock.

"You'd have made a great cop," Jasper chuckled as we waited.

"I was never very good at keeping my temper in check," I tell him, "I would've been done for unnecessary use of force in my first week."

He's still chuckling when we hear the click, clack of shoes on a wooden floor. "Who is it?" she asks from behind the door.

"Emmett McCarty and Jasper Whitlock," I announce formally.

I hear the telltale slide of a peephole being uncovered and then the slide of a bolt and chain. Good girl I think to myself.

"Will he meet with me?" she asks as soon as she's opened the door.

"That's why we're here," I tell her.

"But he's not," she sighs, stepping between us and looking first left, then right to see if Edward was with us. "Come on in," she says in defeat.

The house is spotlessly clean. That's my first impression. My second is that it's cosy, warm and inviting with throw pillows and rugs on the sofa and framed photos on the walls.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asks as she leads us through the living room and into her kitchen.

"Just water please," Jasper says and I ask for the same.

"Take a seat," she says, nodding towards the tiny round table on the other side of the kitchen counter. We sit while she pours two glasses of water for us and a cup of premade coffee from a brewing pot by the stove for herself. "Will he talk to me?" she asks as she sets the drinks on the table and sits with us.

"I haven't asked him," I admit and before she can protest I ask her to hear me out. "He doesn't remember you," I tell her straight up.

She's on her feet instantly, striding across the room towards a floor to ceiling bookcase that's stuffed to the gills. She pulls down a dark covered volume and brings it back to the table. Jasper's water jumps as she slams the book down onto the table before violently turning its pages.

"There," she hisses, pointing to a picture. "That's me, Charlie and Edward. He knows me," she pleads hoarsely. "He can say he doesn't but he does."

I stare at the picture before turning the album a little so that Jasper can look at it too. It's definitely Ed and it's definitely Bella. A little younger, but definitely them.

There's page after page of the pictures. Edward and Bella sitting beside a pool, Edward and Charlie standing proudly in front of a brand new sports car. The three of them in a booth at a restaurant somewhere, smiles a mile wide.

There's a whole page of shots of Charlie and Edward together from a red carpet event somewhere. On the page opposite were fan shots of Edward and Bella at the same event, with her leaning over a barrier waving a promo poster for the first Shadow Mission film.

There was a common theme in them all. Edward was happy. Smiling.

And so were Charlie and Bella.

"Edward doesn't remember you or your dad," Jasper says bluntly.

She stills instantly and I see her knees buckle. I'm on my feet, my arms under hers in a heartbeat. "Easy," I tell her as I lower her back into her seat. "Easy there," I coo softly as she fights to drag in breath.

"How can that be?" she whispers. "How can a person spend every waking moment with him, live with him, eat with him, share a life with him and then when that person dies he just forgets him?"

"He didn't forget," I say softly as I sit back down. "It's in his head somewhere, it's just lost."

"I don't understand," she moans, dropping her head into her hands.

"We think that whatever happened the day your dad died has traumatised him," I tell her gently. "I didn't know him back then so I can't say what he was like before, but now he's just a shell of a man. He doesn't remember anything, Bella. Not your dad, not you or even who he was himself at the time."

"He won't be able to tell me," she sobs.

"I can tell you what I've been able to find out, but it isn't much," I tell her solemnly. "But I have to ask, why haven't you asked before now? Why are you asking questions now?"

She swipes at her eyes with the backs of her hands and tucks some stray strands of hair behind her ears. "I've just gotten divorced and I'm trying to build a new future. I just wanted to put the past to rest. I just want to know why my father died for Edward and why he didn't seem to give a shit after. I just wanted the chance to ask him face to face why he didn't even bother coming to the funeral."

I want to defend him. I want to tell her that Edward wouldn't do that, that he did give a shit, but I didn't know that for sure. I wanted it to be true, but it wasn't reality.

"I don't know how he feels about what happened and until he remembers it for himself none of us will know," I tell her soberly. "I want to help him remember, I've been trying to help him remember for five years, but I've not gotten very far I'm afraid.

"It looks as though your dad helped him reinvent himself when he first started working for him. Helped him change his name, erased his past, and your father was good at what he did, so good," I scoff. "I've made no inroads at all to undo any of it and find anything about who Edward was before your dad died."

"He was wonderful," she whispers.

"I always hoped he was," I tell her gently. "But with no names and no information I've had no way to contact anyone from his past that could shed any light on him at all for me. I didn't even know whether or not you knew him yourself otherwise I'd have contacted you before now."

"I wish I'd known that," she whispers. "Wait, that's not right," she says after a seconds thought. "Tanya knew him. She hired my dad in the first place. She could tell you what he was like."

"I know," I sigh. "She's not exactly forthcoming."

"She knows who I am," she says fiercely. "I've tried and tried to get her to see me, to let me come see Edward, but she says she has no clue who I am but I know she does. I've met her, a couple of times while dad was guarding Edward at the start. She'd come by the house and I'd be there sometimes, so she knows who I am."

"You can bet I'll be asking her about that," I assure her. "What do you remember from the days leading up to your dad's death?" I ask carefully, not wanting to upset her again but knowing it probably would.

"Nothing was different," she sighs. "I've thought about it every day since it happened and I can't think of a single thing that was different.

"He lived there, at Edward's house, like you do now. But it was a different house back then. It was up on Penrose Street, but dad was perfectly normal in the days before.

"I actually talked to him the night before. I was supposed to be going back to school the following day so he'd called to wish me luck for the start of classes. We talked for a little bit, he never said anything was wrong," she hiccupped.

"He never mentioned any problems he had with a fan, or someone who might want to hurt Edward?" I asked.

"No, not then," she said while shaking her head violently. "He'd had some problems before, but not around that time. Not that he'd always tell me," she huffed. "He never wanted me to worry so he'd tell me after the fact, after he'd fixed the problem."

"Do you know what your dad's plans were that day?" I ask hopefully.

"Actually, for a change, I do," she says with a little smile. "Edward was supposed to be going to San Diego, for Comicon. They were leaving that morning. Dad would've been getting ready to drive to the airport."

"Was there anybody else working at the house around that time? Another bodyguard? A gardener? Housekeeper? A driver?" I ask.

"Not that I ever saw," she says flatly. "It was just Edward and dad back then. I guess someone might have done the gardens but I never saw anyone."

"Did Edward ever have any visitors while you were there seeing your dad?" I ask.

"Only his parents when I was around," she says matter of factly.

My heart just about stops. In fact I think it splutters a little bit.

She drags the album so that it's in front of her again and starts flipping pages. "There," she says in triumph, pointing to a picture of Ed who's flanked by an older couple. "Esme and Carlisle Masen. That's the celebration dinner the night after he signed the contracts to make the second film in the series."

I stare at the picture long and hard before turning the book so Jasper can see the couple more clearly too.

"Masen," Jasper mumbles. "I know that name. Yes!" he shouts excitedly. "They're on your list," he tells me.

"Holy shit," I hiss when I make the connection. "They follow him everywhere. Show up at everything. I've called the cops on them for showing up to the house repeatedly," I groan softly. "Oh Christ, what have I done?"

"You didn't know," Jasper attempts to soothe me. "I'll find them," he assures me and I know that he will. He's brilliant with names and details. I had to put him and Alice in a room together. They'd be unstoppable.

"Make it a priority," I tell him before turning back to Bella. "I know you're desperate to find out what happened to your dad, but my priority is Ed's mental health for now. I know that's hurtful, and I know you deserve the truth about what happened to your dad, but he's not well and until he is none of us are going to learn anything more.

"I need to talk to his therapist, get some advice on what to do now, before I can let you see him," I tell her.

She's nodding but she's crying softly as I speak. "There's no hurry," she whimpers, "daddy's gone and he's not coming back. Time frames don't matter anymore."

My heart breaks for her right then. Right there in her little pale yellow dining room my heart actually wrenches for this lovely girl. I stand, Jasper getting to his feet too. I pull my card from my wallet and hand it to her. "Those are all my contact numbers. Call me, anytime, day or night. I'll answer," I assure her. "If you think of anything that might help, anything at all, please call me."

"I will," she nods as she takes the card.

She leads us to her door and as we go through it and out into the drive she calls my name.

"You said he was traumatised. What does that mean? I've seen his movies, he's still working, how can that be if he's so traumatised?" she asks hoarsely.

"Don't believe everything you see on the big screen. Don't confuse the character with the actor, we see a lot of that," I tell her cryptically. "Take care, Bella," I tell her as I climb into the driver's seat.

* * *

><p>The house is quiet when we get back. That's not unusual, but we'd only been gone an hour and a half and Ed wasn't in the pool doing laps like he said he'd be. He usually swam for hours.<p>

I stash Jasper in my office and set him to work tracking down Esme and Carlisle Masen and anything he can find on Edward when he was known as a Masen too.

Kate had left us a carrot cake on the kitchen counter so I swipe my finger through the cream cheese icing on my way past. Ed isn't in the living room, library, gym or the spare bedroom he used for his 'experiments'.

I call to him as I move through the house, panic welling up in me slightly with every room I look into to that proves empty.

I eventually track him down in his ensuite bathroom.

"What the fuck?" I yell when I got a look at him.

He's blue. His face, neck, hair and hands are all blue.

"It won't come off," he says matter of factly.

"What the fuck is it?" I ask as I approach cautiously. For all I knew it could be some poison in powdered form.

I make a mental note to find and cancel the eBay account he'd made, again.

"A taser in a pen," he says proudly, holding up a melted pen for me to see. "Slight mishap, needs adjusting," he tells me, "Might need to try it first without the ink."

I shake my head, knowing that scolding him is futile. He'd switched back to being James in the short time I'd been gone and I knew how pointless it was to try and snap him out of it. "I'm not sure the ink is the issue here, you might be looking at this from the wrong angle," I tell him sarcastically as I reach for the bar of soap and the washcloth on his basin.

He hums, "you might be right. Good call. I'll use a pencil next time."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**For the past few days FF has been rather...odd. I upload and I can see the new chapter, but most of the readers cannot. Or you can see it but can't hit review. It looks as though things have returned to normal, but if they haven't, please be patient, the site gets a little weird sometimes. **

**Please review. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Emmett POV**

"I agree," Rose tells me the next morning in her office. "His mental capacity to take all of this in at once is negligible. I wouldn't advise giving him too much information all at once. That includes exposure to who he thinks are these new people, even though they aren't actually new for him."

"I thought that too," I tell her frankly. "His parents must be going out of their minds with worry, but Bella deserves to know what happened to her father too. Then there's Tanya's involvement in all this. I don't know where to start," I say honestly.

"Start slowly," she suggests as she flips a page of her notes from Edward's file. She can't share with me any specifics about him, patient therapist confidentiality and all that, but she is quite open about his treatment when speaking to me. "Who out of those do you think will give you the most useful information?"

"I don't know," I sigh. "Bella obviously knew him around the time Charlie was killed, so she'd probably be able to tell me how much of his personality now matches what he was like back then. But that might not help us to get him to remember anything.

"His parents obviously knew him well, but not after Charlie, so I don't know what help they'll be getting through to him. Even though I know they deserve the chance to try.

"Then there's Tanya. She knew him then and knows him now but there's no way for me to insist that she tells me a damn thing. If she hasn't offered the information there's no way to make her. Besides, she obviously doesn't need him to recover; she's okay with him being like this as long as he's capable of working."

"I see it that way too," she agrees. "With his health in mind, and only that, I'd begin by getting him and Bella in the same room. Don't explain who she is though. Take him for a meal somewhere maybe but don't tell him that you're going for any other reason other than to eat. It might be a good idea to not even actually introduce them. Take him somewhere, get her there at the same time, and see if he recognises her, if any memory is sparked by simply seeing her."

"Okay," I tell her. "If you take out his mental health from the equation and look at it...no, you're right. His mental health is the priority. I'll get them in the same room together, see what happens."

"Good," she says firmly. "Call me if anything significant comes from it."

* * *

><p>On returning to the house I find Ed in the living room watching a replay of the night befores football game.<p>

He's no longer blue, the last of the ink having been washed away during his morning shower.

He doesn't even look up as I walk through the room so I leave him be as I double back to my office.

Jasper's there, right where I left him, sifting through identity and bank records on the internet.

"Anything?" I ask.

"A bit, nothing significant yet," he tells me as he takes the pen down from behind his ear and makes a note on the pages in front of him. "What did Rose say?"

"She agrees," I sigh as I sit in the chair opposite the desk. "His mental health has to be the priority and his remembering slowly is the only way to achieve both our goals."

"To get him to recover and to find out what really happened that day," he reiterates as he scratches away on the page again. "Take a look at this," he says, turning the computer monitor so that I can read it.

"They're broke?" I ask, horrified when I realise that I'm looking at Edward's parents bank account.

"Close enough to it," he says sadly. "Ten years ago they sold their home to pay tuition to an acting school. It has to be for Edward though I can't find an enrollment for him anywhere. But that could be because his history was wiped.

"His parents bought a shitty used trailer the day after the settlement on the house and two days later they paid this tuition in full."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter darkly. "They spent years helping him achieve his goals and just when it comes to fruition they lose him."

"We'll set it right," he tells me firmly, to which I nod just as firmly. "His dad's a high school math teacher and his mom's employment history is pretty sporadic. Fits with having a kid to take care of. Temp secretarial work mostly, in and around school hours when he was younger and after he graduated she took what she could."

I think about that for a moment before I speak.

"Pass me their file," I ask. "See this here," I tell him once I've got it, pointing to the page where I've made notes on how many times they've tried to get access to him over the years. "Every public appearance, red carpet, and opening night they're there.

"That's where their money's been going, look," I say as I point to the locations where they'd shown up over the past year.

"They're spending every spare cent travelling around the country to get near him," Jasper sighs as he makes the connection between what I'm telling him and what I'm showing him.

"You got it," I say sadly. "Pass me the keyboard," I ask and he does. "Ed's got a trust account that's untraceable to his name," I tell him as I log onto his banks website.

"You've got access to his money?" Jasper asks, eyebrows raised.

"He gave me permission, way back when. Plus I like to make sure nobody's ripping him off. He's so out of it most of the time he'd sign everything he owns over to the first person who asks," I shrug. "And on other days, when he thinks he's James, he tries to log on to the accounts and take all the money out so he can hide it elsewhere. I change the password nearly every day so he can't."

"Jesus," Jasper groans.

"Use the laptop, call up their bank account on that for me," I instruct him. I wait while he hacks into the account and when he's got a statement on the screen I ask him to give me the name of the place they've shopped at most often most recently.

"Vons, Laguna Niguel," he tells me.

I transfer fifty thousand dollars from the trust account to the Masen's bank account and type 'Vons lucky customer 1st prize' in the reference box and hit confirm.

"That should tide them over for a bit," I tell him as I close the web page. "If we still haven't got him well enough to see them in a few months I'll top it up."

Jasper says nothing; he just goes back to his identity search once I've passed him the keyboard back.

I busy myself taking the Masen's pages out of my credible threat file and making them a new one. I don't label it, I just leave it blank, in case Ed gets a hold of it. Which isn't likely, but I need to be careful.

"I'm going to call Bella and see what she thinks about being somewhere where he can see her for himself," I tell Jasper who waves but says nothing as I dial her number. She answers quickly. "It's Emmett," I tell her.

"What did his therapist say?" she asks in a rush.

"We've got to go slowly, be very careful not to overload him," I tell her. "She's suggested we take him somewhere public and you being there too. She doesn't want the two of you introduced or anything, she just wants him to be able to eyeball you, to see if it jogs his memory."

"I can do that," she says quickly. "I'll do whatever you need me to do."

"Good girl," I tell her, grateful that she's willing to put her own desire to get information about her dad aside for the sake of Ed's health. "It'll need to be somewhere public enough that it doesn't look like a set up but secure enough that he won't get mobbed," I tell her. "I'll need to do some research so give me a couple days to work something out and I'll call you with the details."

I hear her huff on her end and know that she's frustrated. "A few days?" she asks sadly.

"It's difficult for him to be in public," I tell her. "He gets recognised easily and within minutes he's being clawed at and if they swarm I could cause a riot if I have to extract him quickly."

"So somewhere secure but still public," she muses, "I work at a cop filled restaurant, would that be any good?" she asks.

"You work at Dunkin Donuts?" I laugh.

"That's such a shitty stereotype," she scolds. "No, I work at the Stake Out on Welby Way. It's always full of cops, there's never any trouble and I can legitimately be there."

"Hold on," I tell her as I cover the mouthpiece. "Google The Stake Out on Welby Way for me," I tell Jasper who immediately starts tapping.

"It's a police themed restaurant," he tells me once he's on the right page. "It's a block and a half in two directions from police stations, everything else around it is residential."

"Thanks," I tell him then uncover the mouthpiece again. "What do you do there?" I ask Bella.

"I manage it, do the books, I'm an accountant," she tells me truthfully.

I already knew what she did and where, and I knew the hours she worked there and when she played hooky to go shopping instead, but I needed to know she'd tell me the truth if I asked. "Looks alright to me," I tell her. "We'll bring him by for dinner tomorrow night. About six, does that suit you?"

"I'll be there," she says excitedly.

"Don't get your hopes up too high," I remind her gently. "He might not recognise or remember you. If he doesn't we'll have to rethink this."

"But if he does he might get better," she counters.

"He might," I agree. "So we'll see you tomorrow night at six but I'll call you before that and let you know what I need you to do once we're there, alright?"

"Whatever you need," she tells me again.

I ring off after wishing her a good evening.

"This place is a hoot," Jasper crows as soon as I've ended the call. "Check this out," he says, turning the monitor so I can see the web page. "There's a bar and they've got proper pool tables and everything. It's all themed," he laughs.

"I don't give a shit what it's like as long as Ed's safe while we're there," I mumble as I pull my laptop towards me.

**EPOV**

It had been years since the last time I'd eaten at a restaurant for fun, rather than because I was a required guest of a producer or director.

I was quite looking forward to it.

Emmett said it was a themed restaurant, which I thought was a bit odd as he didn't usually go in for things like that, but the thought of a meal out, in public, sounded like fun.

It had also been a very long time since I'd had any actual fun.

The life of an actor is mostly a very solitary one. I enjoyed Emmett's company, and I was pretty sure I'd grow to enjoy Jasper's too, but for the most part I was alone.

I'd dressed carefully for our outing. Nothing flashy or ostentatious. Nothing that would bring any attention to me. Just jeans and a t-shirt with a plain black jacket. Nothing that said 'hey, look at me, I'm worth millions, mob me now'.

We drove north, which in itself was strange. Emmett didn't like straying too far from the house, but north we went. He pulled us up into the parking lot of The Stake Out, which from the outside looked like any other small eatery.

I waited in the backseat of the Mercedes until Jasper returned to give the 'all clear' and then waited again while Emmett opened my door for me.

I hated it when he did that, but he always insisted, citing that if a shot was fired it would hit him before it hit me.

I hated the thought of that so I always did as he asked.

My two bodyguards flanked me on the short walk to the front door and from there their eyes were on swivel hooks and I knew that their ears were open and they were hyper aware of our surroundings.

They couldn't relax while I was exposed like this and I felt bad about that. I wanted them to enjoy a meal out as much as I was going to. But I also knew that this was their job, to keep me safe, so I said nothing about them relaxing.

My first impression of the place was that it was dark and filled with cigarette smoke. I liked that. I was a smoker, against everyone's advice, and I especially liked one after a meal.

The darkness was also relaxing. Bright lights were a part of my work life; I didn't need or want them during my private time.

A hostess with a badge letting us know that her name is Jenny crosses Emmett's name off the booking sheet and then we are shown to a booth along the back wall, Emmett's preferred positioning no doubt. It's much easier to deal with trouble when it came at you front on he'd say.

I slide into the booth followed by Emmett, Jasper sits opposite and when Jenny is informed that we'd never been there before she claps her hands excitedly and tells us we were in for a real treat.

"In keeping with the police theme," she trills, "you place your orders using the iPad on the dashboard there," she says, pointing to the wall beside me where a very good imitation of a police cruisers dashboard is affixed.

"You can give me your first drink order now while you look over the menu, but when you're ready for refills just use the radio handset to call for back up," she giggles.

"I'll just have whatever beer you've got," Jasper tells her. Emmett orders the same and so did I.

"I'll be right back with that," sells us as she scribbles the order on her pad. "Check out the menu and don't forget to have a look at the entertainment tab."

"Entertainment tab?" Em asks skeptically once she's flounced away from our table.

I take the iPad down off the dash and set it on the table between the three of us. We flick through the menu, and I tap the screen once I've decided what I want, and watched as the order for my 911 burger and fries lights up the screen with a very authentic looking 'rap sheet' for me to confirm.

"Me next," Jasper chuckles as he turns the iPad around. "I'm having the 314 Indecent Exposure burger. Listen to this," he laughs. "It's an open faced burger with everything spilling out, probably how it got the indecent exposure rap," he laughs.

Emmett's next and we watch as he taps in his order of a 213 Use of Illegal Explosives, that is actually a super hot chilli dog, with a side order of 374B Illegal Dumping. That's a steak so big it could double as a road killed steer. Emmett liked his meat.

He stopped short of ordering a 390D from the drinks list. It was a Drunk and Unconscious which was pretty much a goldfish bowl sized glass containing almost all of the top shelf white spirits available.

He was driving us home and rethought the order.

I look around me at the other patrons, of which there were many. The whole place is filled with booths, no actual tables, and each of the booths has the same dashboard fixed to the wall above the table.

There are only two empty booths despite it being midweek and quite early.

There are only one or two women, the booths filled mostly with small groups of men. Some of whom wore police uniforms.

"Is this a police hang out?" I ask Emmett, who I knew had made the booking.

"Yeah, pretty great, isn't it?" he grins.

"Certainly safe," I concede.

"Listen to this," Jasper says as he reads from the entertainment tab on the iPad. "Get your team together for an all out, realistic, back alley shoot out. Located at the rear of the main dining room you'll find two laser tag-team facilities.

"Scenario A is for our younger patrons, or our older ones who want a little childish fun. The back alley in this facility has 'pop out' cartoon characters for you to tag as they appear. Pit yourself against your friends, or show dad that not everything you've learned from playing COD was a waste of time.

"Scenario B is for adults only. The back alley in this facility is a realistic depiction of the seedier side of Los Angeles life complete with thugs, drug traffickers and criminal masterminds who will 'pop out' at random intervals for you to 'subdue and contain' with your laser tag weapon.

"Play department against department, precinct against precinct or just grab your partner and go headlong into the battle without back up."

"Sounds brilliant," Emmett chuckles, "we could team up against some of the cops; see if we can out shoot them."

"I'm in," Jasper says excitedly as he taps on the iPad and navigates to another page.

Jenny arrives momentarily with our first round of beers perched precariously on a tray. She is followed by a petite brunette who also stops at our table.

"Jenny tells me this is your first stop at The Stake Out," she says as she sets three bright red plastic tokens on the table. "Your first shoot out is on the house boys," she grins.

"That's so cool," Emmett chortles as he squirms in his seat like a little kid. "This place is great," he tells her as he looks around.

"Be sure to leave us good feedback on your iPad," she says, nodding towards where it now sat in its holster on the dashboard. "I'm Isabella Swan," she announces, "I'm the manager here so if there's anything you need that you don't see listed please let me know and I'll do my best to get it for you."

"Good to meet you, Isabella," Emmett replies, holding his hand out for hers.

They shake and the process is repeated as Jasper introduces himself and then the lovely brunette turns her attention to me.

I wait for just a heartbeat for her to clock who I am but her expression never changes as she holds her hand out for mine.

"I'm Ed," I tell her vaguely as I reach across Emmett to shake her hand.

I get a jolt, a little like static electricity as our hands meet, and have to resist tugging my hand away before we've shaken properly.

"Great to meet you guys," she says after she's let my hand go. "Like I said, let me know if you need anything and I'll do my best. Enjoy your meals, and the alley," she says with a wink.

I watch her leave our booth and stop two booths down to talk to another group of guys.

"She's great too," Emmett says as he flips the tokens through his fingers.

"She's pretty hot," Jasper whistles through his teeth.

I let both comments pass as I slide a little further back into my seat.

All of a sudden I don't feel too great. I feel hot, clammy, as though something rancid is churning in my stomach despite the fact that I've not eaten since lunch and haven't taken the first sip from my beer yet.

"You okay, Ed?" Emmett asks as he shoulder checks me in the booth.

I nod but don't dare speak in case the closed over feeling in my throat isn't just a feeling.

**Bella POV**

Stopping and talking to Jim and Steve, regulars who had been eating here since I was a little kid, had staved off the worst of my panic attack after finally coming face to face with Edward after five years.

As it was I was as pale as a sheet, struggling for breath and the meagre contents of my stomach was taking bets on whether or not to stay put or evacuate as I ran down the back hall to my office.

I slam the door shut with some force, making the framed pictures of my favourite regulars bounce and shake on the walls.

I throw myself into my chair and bury my head in my hands on the desk top.

"He doesn't remember me," I wheeze. "He doesn't remember this place or daddy."

There is a soft knock at my door and after a hasty eye wipe and hair readjustment I called whoever it was in.

Emmett stuck his head around the door gingerly. "You okay?" he asks.

"I'll be fine," I shrug, "you told me not to get my hopes up too high."

"I did, doesn't mean I'm not sorry he didn't remember you straight off," he says kindly.

"I appreciate that," I tell him truthfully. "So we go with plan B then?" I ask.

"Only if you want to?"

"I want to," I tell him firmly. "Where does he think you are?"

"Bathroom, so I'd better get back. Take your time. Come out when you're ready and remember what we talked about," he reminds me before striding to my desk and placing a small, black electronic device on it. "You press that red button, anytime, and I'll come running," he says. "Give it a whirl, just to be sure," he says.

I push the red button as instructed and immediately there's a chime coming from his pocket. He takes out his cell phone, silences the alarm and tells me we're good to go. With one last nod he leaves the office. I pocket the little alarm and take a slug from the water bottle on my desk.

**Emmett POV**

As introductions went that one had been awkward I think to myself as I slip back into the booth.

I dig into my chilli dog and find that it is really quite good.

Ed is quiet, pale and looking decidedly uncomfortable as he picks at his burger.

But did that equate to remembering?

There is no way to tell. I'd felt sure that if he did remember Bella he'd say something and seeing as he was almost mute I had to assume that meant that he didn't.

I give Jasper a discreet nod to let him know that Bella was okay and hoped he was prepared for any fallout from our change of plans.

We keep up a steady conversation over the meal, Ed is quiet but he does participate a little. However, he abandons his meal quickly, after just a few bites, and he'd only had a third of his beer.

When Jasper and I are finished our meal, and Ed has told me he's done with his, Jasper uses the radio handset to call for a crime scene clean up. That is pretty funny, and Ed does laugh, but it's pretty half-hearted.

After Jenny takes our plates away Jasper orders some sweets for us all using the iPad again. He goes for apple pie and cream, I choose cobbler but Ed declines. He does opt in for coffee though.

That's unusual. He had a serious sweet tooth and never turned down sweets, and he hardly ever drank coffee. He said it made his headaches worse so it was weird to hear him turn down sugar but go for caffeine.

I spot Bella coming towards our booth and raise my eyebrows at Jasper as a warning. He gives me a barely imperceptible nod so I knew he'd understood.

"How was your meal?" she asks pleasantly as she comes to the edge of the booth.

"Brilliant," Jasper crows. "And this pie is awesome too."

"I'm so glad you like it," she smiles sweetly. "How was the chilli?" she asks me.

"Fantastic, just the right amount of heat," I tell her truthfully. "I've never had a steak that tender before either," I tell her sincerely.

"It's all in the preparation," she smiles. "Are you boys going to try your hand at our laser course?" she asks, just as we'd rehearsed.

"I'm up for it," Jasper announces excitedly, also just as we'd rehearsed.

"I'm in too," I say before turning to Ed. "What about you? You feel like testing your shooting skills for a laugh?"

He looks even more ill and I feel an instant rush of regret for the set up we'd manufactured.

I'd had no way to know that he'd be feeling off of course, but I knew, when he was being himself, that he had no stomach for anything gun related. Even if it was just a game. He was too gentle, too well... too nice.

"I'm not feeling one hundred percent," he whispers to me so Bella wouldn't overhear. "I've got a headache," he says a little more loudly, "but I don't want to be the party pooper so you guys go and enjoy yourselves," he says with a wave of his hand.

"Sorry," I say with a mock sigh to Bella, "It's my job to protect my boss when we're out in public, so some other time."

Edward's trying to protest but Bella plays her part perfectly.

"I'm sorry you've got a headache," she says in a tone that is both convincing and more than an act, I can tell. "You're welcome to come sit with me in my office while your men shoot on the range. It's secure back there, nobody but me goes down that hall and the course only takes about twenty minutes," she informs us. "Plus," she says with a grin of her own, "the place is crawling with cops."

"I don't know," I hedge as convincingly as I can.

"You're welcome to check that it's secure for yourself," she offers right on cue.

"Go on, boss," Jasper chimes in. "I'm dying to kick your ass on a range," he grins cheekily.

"What do you think, Ed?" I ask.

"Go," he says simply. "I'll just sit in the quiet while you two play."

"Aright," I say, "I'll go check out the setup and layout of the back rooms and if it's safe we'll have one quick game and collect you right after. Okay?"

**EPOV**

Emmett took only five minutes to check that the back part of the restaurant was safe and then the manager led the three of us back there.

I am deposited in a chair in her office and then Em and Jasper go off to play laser tag.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asks.

"No, thank you," I tell her as I lean back and close my eyes to fight the rising nausea.

"I have a first aid kit in the kitchen if you need some aspirin?" she asks next.

I tell her thank you, but no, again and I hear her take a seat at her desk and begin to shuffle papers.

Then there is a phone ringing and she's talking about a delivery of beer that's late. She's very efficient and very commanding on the call, insisting that the delivery arrive by midday the next day or she'd cancel the standing order and take her business elsewhere.

"Is it difficult to run a place like this?" I ask, once she's concluded her call.

"It's easier now," she says softly, "When I first took over as manager nobody wanted to deal with a girl," she laughs.

"How on earth did you come to be managing a police themed restaurant?" I ask, cracking one eye open so I wouldn't seem quite so rude having a conversation with both eyes shut.

She was smiling and it lit up her face and made her lovely chocolate brown eyes sparkle. "Charlie, my dad, was a cop when I was little so he brought me here a lot. He was stationed at Hartland Street and I'd meet him here after school," she grins.

"Was?" I asked. "What's he do now?"

Her face clouds over then, real sadness replaces the happiness and I am instantly sorry I'd asked. "He died, five years ago, doing what Emmett and Jasper do for you," she says matter of factly.

I can feel and taste bile rising in the back of my throat and I don't know why.

My hands are clammy, the back of my neck aching. My stomach is churning and as I hunch over to put my head between my knees my brain starts chanting the name Charlie Swan, Charlie Swan, Charlie Swan.

"Are you alright?" she asks as she leaps up from her chair to come to me.

"I'm fine," I rasp through a rapidly thickening throat. Charlie Swan, Charlie Swan my brain keeps repeating. Isabella Swan, Isabella Swan, the chant continues.

She's there then, in front of me, kneeling before me, her hands on my knees and she's telling me to breathe evenly.

The light in the room makes my eyes sting and water. My heart is pounding and I give in to the bliss of passing out.

**BPOV**

I watch, horrified, as he slumps in the seat with a loud gasp.

"Edward?" I call, tapping his knees with my fingers to get his attention. But he's silent and still and I begin to panic just a little.

I'm on my feet then, rushing to retrieve the little alarm that Emmett had given me and just as I'm about to push the red button Edward's eyes spring open.

"Well, hello there lassie," he says in a thick Scottish accent as he leers at me.

I stare at him and wonder what the hell I'd just been witness to. One second he's sweating and gasping for breath, passing out in the chair in my office, and the next he's awake, winking at me creepily and he's got an accent!

I'd thought a lot about what Emmett had told me as he was leaving my house, that not everything you saw on the big screen was to be taken as fact.

It was now obvious to me that Edward had problems. Serious problems. Problems of the mental variety. Was this the traumatisation that Emmett had hinted at?

"Um," is my brilliant opening line.

"Come now, darlin'," he smirks, looking around the office, "we're all alone here. No need for you to be on your knees just yet, sweetness. Why don't you just come sit on my lap for now, at least until we get to know each other a little?"

I shudder. Not because of what he's said but because he winked again and was now patting his lap like a perverted old man.

If he was playing a part to deflect any questioning on my behalf about my dad I didn't want to play his game. But, on the other hand, if I needed to play his game to get the answers I wanted then I could do that.

"Thanks, but no," I mumble as I slip the alarm back into my pocket. "I don't think we've met," I say as I take a small step forwards and hold out my hand.

He eagerly takes my hand and holds it too long, squeezing it just a little too intimately as he makes eyes at me. "So formal," he says, rolling the r expertly. "I'm Rupert Sizemore darlin', Sizemore by name, more size by nature," he drawls.

I shudder. He's creepy as fuck. And he's staring right at my boobs!

"Isabella Swan," I mumble back, trying to hide my cringe. I pull my hand from his and go back around my desk. To the safety of behind my desk. With the desk separating us. The wide, very stable, very sturdy desk separating me from him. Shudder.

"Such a pretty name you've got there, lassie," he all but drools. "Tell me, sweetie, have you ever been curious about what's under a man's kilt?"

He's not wearing a kilt but I don't think it's a good idea to point that out in his current condition so I ignore the question. "Do you remember my dad, Charlie Swan?" I ask instead.

"Charlie's a good strong name," he purrs. At least I think he's purring, he could be choking too. "Can't say I've ever had the pleasure though. I can be your da," he winks again, making my stomach roil. "If you've been a naughty girl I can surely sort that out for ye with a good spankin'."

I can tell that I'm not going to get anything out of him like this. I slide my hand into my pocket and press the little alarm, not because I'm frightened of him, but because this needed to end now if only so that Emmett could take him home, or medicate him, or slip on a white jacket with a lot of buckles attached, or something.

**Emmett POV**

I feel my phone vibrate in my jeans pocket and throw my laser pistol to the ground.

"Jasper!" I bellow over the yelling and the hissing of other pistols recharging. He stops where he stands, looks to me as I nod towards the door and drops his pistol to the ground instantly too.

"What's up?" he asks as we jog down the short hallway that's been painted to look like a dingy back alley.

"She pressed the alarm," I tell him as we burst through the doors. "Get the car, bring it right up to the doors, keep the engine running," I tell him as I run for the corridor that'll take me back to her office.

I knock but don't wait to be asked to go in. She's cringing away from him as he leers over her in her seat.

"Oh fuck," I mutter darkly before striding across the room and grabbing him roughly by his collar. "Rupert I assume?" I ask into his shocked face.

"She's a bonny lass and I think she wants to be with me, big fella," he drawls as he starts batting my hands away from him.

"You're a lover not a fighter Rupert," I snarl as I push and pull him until he's dangling from his collar in my hand. "Sorry about this," I tell Bella gently.

"We need to talk," she hisses at me as she straightens herself up in her seat. "Get him out of here and the instant he's...contained..." she says with a wave of her hand, "you call me," she demands.

"I will," I promise. "I can get Jasper to take him home if you're not alright," I offer but she's already shaking her head before I can get the whole offer out. "Right. I'll take him home and call you. I really am sorry you had to meet this guy," I tell her as I go towards the door, Ed still dangling from my hand.

"Me too," she whispers but I catch it.

"Come on, sunshine, time for bed," I tell Ed who is already starting to snap out of it and becoming limp. "Come on, kid," I whisper to him as we get to the head of the corridor. "Just stay with me a little longer, until I've got you in the car."

This is what he does. He gets so stressed, so out of control mentally that a third personality shuts his brain down and up pops this lecherous bastard called Rupert in his stead.

Whatever was going on for him at the booth was probably the onset of Rupert emerging.

I hadn't seen him in a while and wasn't pleased to see him now.

I walk, Ed sort of half limps half lets me drag him to the exit and then I bundle him into the backseat of the Mercedes.

"Drive," I tell Jasper as I slide in beside Ed in the back. I click his seatbelt into place, then mine, and then cradle his head in my lap. "Just breathe, buddy," I tell him softly as the first sobs begin to break through the defences in his brain. "Let it out," I try to soothe as his body begins to shudder and shake.

"Home or to emergency?" Jasper asks, eyes flashing back and forth from the road to the rearview mirror.

"Home," I tell him firmly. "Jasper Whitlock meet Rupert Sizemore, Ed's alter ego who comes to visit when he can't cope with reality anymore."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Emmett POV**

The boy sobbing in my arms is so lost, so incredibly lost and even though I know that I am closer than ever to helping him find his way I am powerless to ease his suffering.

"Shhh," I soothe as he chokes.

We are sitting where we always are when Rupert comes out to play. On the floor beside Ed's bed, his head in my lap, his puke on my shoes.

I didn't understand why, and neither did Rosalie with all her head shrinking degrees, but for some reason the emergence of Rupert tore Edward apart both mentally and physically.

James made his head spin but Rupert turned him inside out.

Rose suspected it was because James was a bandaid designed to fix simple problems and that Rupert was a total mind and body cast intended to shut the real Edward down and protect him from more serious problems.

I didn't have a better theory so I subscribed to hers.

When Edward needed an escape from his mundane life he turned into James. When he needed protection from that life Rupert arrived.

The pattern was getting clearer and clearer but it had been a long time since I'd been in Rupert's company.

Whatever had gone on in Bella's office had had such a profound effect on Ed that his mind and body had shut down, leaving Rupert in his place.

"I should've helped," he whimpers in my lap.

"Helped who?" I ask carefully.

He doesn't have a chance to answer because he starts retching again right away. I let him puke. There is no way to stop it anyway. He'd puke for an hour or so, cry and wail for a few more until his mind and body were so exhausted he couldn't stand and then he'd sleep it off.

There was nothing left in his gut to come out so he was left with the awful, wracking hacks instead of actually vomiting and somehow that was worse. His body convulsed, his mouth made the movements, but nothing came out.

I rub his back and keep his hair out of his eyes and his puke through it all, like I always did.

"Shhh," I soothe again when he stopped retching and went back to just whimpering. "It'll be alright," I tell him, though I had nothing to actually base that on.

"He died for me," he moans, the first real words he'd spoken about what happened five years ago.

"He did," I agree softly because that much _had_ to be true.

Whatever had happened that day that one thing was clear. Charlie Swan died protecting this kid, he took his last breath making sure Ed could take some more.

"I wanted to die too," he mumbles as he closes his eyes.

The lump in my throat won't let me answer. I couldn't dispute what he'd said. It was the first time he'd ever shown any sign of remembering anything at all and while that made me very, very happy his statement also made me fear what was coming if he did remember it all.

Would he still want to die himself? Would his grief and fear make him take his own life if he remembered? I had no answer to those questions because I'd never spent any time thinking about what would come after he remembered. I'd been so hell bent on getting him to actually remember that what would come next was a foreign concept.

When the kids soft snuffling snores are the only sound in the bedroom I slide him off my lap and carry his limp body to his bed. I tug his shoes off but leave his clothing on. He's shivering, like always, so I leave him with as much covering him as possible.

I make sure he's on his side in case he pukes again and wait a full ten minutes to make sure he's properly asleep before I run to collect towels and disinfectant from the laundry room.

I scrub the carpet, dose it with the pine scented liquid and rub it hard with a clean towel. He still hadn't moved by the time I'd cleaned up the mess so I left him to sleep it off and went to find Jasper.

He was in the office, tapping furiously on the keyboard. He didn't raise his eyes as I enter and I knew why. The pain he'd been witness to hurt like a bitch, especially when it manifested itself in a guy as gentle as Edward.

"He'll be okay," I say quietly, even though he hadn't asked. "He's been sick and he'll be a bit out of sorts come morning, but he will be alright."

"How often?" he asks simply, without raising his eyes.

I sigh as I take the seat opposite where he's working. "Rupert's pretty rare," I mumble. "He only shows himself when Ed's this close to losing his shit altogether," I say, using my fingers to denote an inch in size.

"Once a month, once every six, once a year?" he asks, still not looking up.

"Top right hand drawer," I say instead of answering the question. He opens the drawer and asks what he's looking for. "The blue book," I sigh.

He takes it out and starts flipping pages. I leave him be for a minute and while he reads I pull the phone on the desk closer.

"Bella, its Emmett," I say when she answers.

"Is he alright?" is her first question and it makes me smile.

"He's fine, honey," I reassure her. "He's sleeping and when he wakes up tomorrow he'll be perfectly fine. Are you alright? Are you still at work?"

"I'm okay," she sighs, sounding a little relieved that Ed was okay. "I'm at home now too."

"Can you tell me what happened?" I ask carefully. She didn't have to tell me if she didn't want to, I just held out the hope that she _would_ want to.

"I think I upset him," she whispers. "When you first brought him into my office he looked a little green so I offered him some water or an aspirin, but he refused. He asked how I came to work there and I told him I'd been going there since I was little. I told him that daddy had been a cop back then and that he used to have me meet him there after school. It upset him."

"Did you mention your dad's name?" I ask as I click my fingers to get Jasper's attention. I mouth the word pen to him and he passes me one before turning his attention back to the journal in his hands.

I make notes as Bella talks. After I've thanked her for her efforts, told her not to worry about Ed for the night and wished her a good sleep for herself I spend a few extra minutes scribbling on the scrap of paper.

"There's a pattern in this," Jasper mumbles, probably to himself but I'd heard.

"There is," I agree, still scribbling on the paper. "Rose noticed it at first, asked me to make notes of my own on the days in between his visits to her."

I hear him flipping pages back and forth and then he makes a low hiss. "It's Tanya," he mutters darkly.

"Looks that way," I tell him as I shove the paper I'd been writing on across the desk to join a stack already there.

"She comes to the house on irregular days but the outcome is always the same," he correctly surmises.

"And?" I ask, desperate to know if he saw what I saw in the notes.

He's quiet for a moment as he flips more pages, his thumbs marking some before he turns back to them and reads for a few seconds more. "His reaction, the length of time it takes him to recover, is directly related to the length of her visits," he announces with not a little venom in his voice. "He reacts aggressively if he's been left alone with her?" he asks.

"That's just a theory," I warn.

"If your notes are accurate it's more than a theory," he snarls. "There are no other mentions of him being aggressive with anyone, nobody," he says matter of factly. "He's never even lashed out at you, just Tanya, what the fuck?"

"I can't explain it," I tell him firmly, "that's just what I've observed."

"Was he aggressive with Bella tonight?" he asks.

"Not when he was being himself, no. And he wasn't aggressive in the strictest sense once Rupert had taken over either," I tell him. "He was sexually insistent, lewd, suggestive and inappropriate, but not aggressive physically."

"So Bella doesn't make him aggressive, he's never reacted aggressively with you or anyone else other than Tanya. His brain knows not to trust her," he sighs.

"I figured as much too," I sigh just as heavily as I sit back in my seat. "Bella even mentioned her father in their conversation tonight and he didn't react badly, he just retreated to the safety of another persona. I won't know until tomorrow morning if he's going to come up swinging like he does after Tanya's been here."

"The two different personas, aside from his own," he began slowly as he lowered the journal to the desktop, "they protect him, but in different ways."

"How so?" I ask, hoping he'd been able to see something I couldn't see in the scratching inside that damned blue book.

"Think about how different they are. All three of them. Edward's a quiet, unassuming kind of guy when he's being himself. He's shy to the point of being socially awkward. Keeps his eyes lowered, his hands in his lap. He's not demonstrative in any way and makes little to no demand on anyone.

"James, on the other hand, is assertive. Confident where Edward isn't, at all. He's forceful and courageous. Even though he shows that courage and forcefulness by doing stupid things it's still the same. He's brave. Willing to try new things.

"And then there's Rupert. And he's everything Edward's not, too. Boastful and lecherous. He's so openly repulsive that nothing in a skirt within a hundred miles would ever consider being with him, in any capacity.

"They are the parts of his brain the real Edward thinks he lacks. Confidence. Self assurance. Courageousness and attractiveness to the opposite sex.

"His brain is filling in the gaps. Its giving him what he needs," he says with a hiss. "Rupert is a defence that keeps women at a distance. He's so obnoxious he makes it so that Ed doesn't need to be afraid to have someone close to him, to love him back only to be disappointed if he fails them. If he never has anyone in his life that loves him he never has to feel as though he's let them down. It's probably so that he doesn't run the risk of losing anyone, too. If nobody loves him he won't need to grieve if anyone dies."

"James does the same for him, but in a different way. James, because he's a spy, can't have attachments. They become targets. So James satisfies Edward's need to be in control, to be able to fight back when he himself can't or couldn't. James is the epitome of what Edward wishes he was. A fighter. Someone nobody can hurt ever again. Someone without emotional attachments to anyone, male or female, so that they are never harmed because of him.

"The three personalities are working to keep him isolated. Alone. No attachments mean nobody gets hurt, nobody dies because of him."

I just stare at him. Enthralled at the machinations of his brain. Impressed beyond belief at how he saw the problem and grateful that it wasn't just my problem any longer.

"Thank you," I tell him wearily. "Thank you for giving a shit about this kid."

"He doesn't deserve this. Any of this," he says sadly as he stares at me across the desk. "What he does deserve is somebody to help him fight, to be in his corner. Someone to crack the code in his head and help him deal with the fallout once he does remember."

"He said he wanted to die alongside Charlie tonight," I tell him hoarsely, emotion welling up inside me.

"I don't doubt that for a minute," Jasper replies gently.

"It's the first time he's ever mentioned that day."

"Because we've found a piece of the puzzle," Jasper assures me.

"He's so lost," I whimper, ashamed of myself for showing this guy the chink in my own armour.

"He's not lost," he says firmly, "he's hiding. We'll hold the flashlight and show him the way home."

"Thank you," I blub like a baby as I lower my forehead to the desks surface and allow all my grief and frustration to pour out of me.

**EPOV**

The light in the room is piercing when I wake. Even through a squint it hurts, making the pounding in my head intensify.

The rolling in my gut matches the stale, acrid smell of vomit in the room.

My shirt's bunched under my armpits, making it difficult to move. The bed covers look and feel as though I'd spent the night thrashing and if the aching, lethargic feeling in every muscle group in my body was anything to go by, I had.

I manage to stand, though I start to think that's me at the top of my game judging by the steady tremble in my knees.

I make it to my bathroom without incident, but its slow going. I turn on the shower and let the steam fill the room before I step out of my clothing. The smell of sweat and vomit is intensified in the heat and I find myself desperate to wash it off my skin.

I stand under the spray a long, long time before I start to scrub. My muscles ease with the heat, my headache softening to a dull roar as the hot water does its thing.

"You up to something to eat?" I hear shouted outside the door.

"Toast," I croak back.

"You need anything?" comes Emmett's next question. One he's asked me on mornings like this a lot.

"A bullet," I mumble to myself before telling him I'm good and need nothing other than the toast.

When I'm finished scrubbing and am clean and dry I go back to my bedroom to find the Emmett Fairy had removed all evidence of whatever the hell I'd done to myself the night before.

The bed was stripped and a pile of clean linens were sitting on the end. My shoes were gone, as was the towel soaked in my vomit that had been on the floor next to them. The drapes are still closed, probably so that I could get dressed, but the windows behind them were open.

I slide gingerly into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and then go looking for my glasses. I don't need them for every day, just for reading, but in the state I was in any assistance they could give me as I walked through the house was welcome.

A new pair were on my dresser, still in their packaging, and I had to wonder just what I'd done with the last pair. I tended to break them and scratch their lenses almost weekly. Emmett kept a stock of them I was so hard on them.

I slid them on and felt a minor relief from the stinging as my eyes adjusted with their assistance.

I threw open the drapes and cringed at the streaming sunlight that flooded the room.

I braved a look in the mirror above the dresser and cringed again at what I saw.

The bags under my eyes were so heavy, so dark, that I looked like death warmed up. My lips were thin, a tight line that made me look demented.

And maybe I was?

I kept blacking out. Couldn't recall hours, sometimes whole days of my existence.

I felt ill nearly all the time, had headaches that wouldn't give up and a voice in my head that kept chanting names at me.

I wasn't right.

And the bitch of it was that it was only me who knew it.

Even Rosalie insisted I was normal. And if a shrink didn't notice the mess inside my head how in god's name could I be expected to fix it?

**Emmett POV**

"How is he?" Jasper asks as I move through the kitchen and into the laundry with Ed's bedclothes.

I pile the sheets into the washing machine and throw in an extra dose of sanitiser before hitting start on the control panel.

"Groggy," I tell him when I get back to the kitchen. "He'll eat some toast, lie down for a while somewhere quiet and he'll come good," I tell him as I push two pieces of bread into the toaster.

"And Bella?" he asks.

"She was shaken and pretty disappointed last night," I tell him in reference to the call I'd made while he'd been reading through the journal.

"Should we call her again this morning?"

"Probably," I agree. "I was thinking of asking her to come over," I hedge.

"While he's groggy?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"While he's himself," I correct him. "She told me what was said between them in her office and you and I have already worked out that her name, and her dads, are probably the triggers that made Rupert come out of hiding. If she avoids that, and they just talk generally, we might have more luck."

"And you're hoping that while he's groggy he'll be more receptive to questions," he mumbles.

I spread butter thickly on the toast and slide the two slices onto a plate. "I have no clue about that," I tell him honestly as I set the plate on the kitchen table. "I've tried a hundred times, in a hundred different ways, to ask him questions but he just doesn't remember."

"So you're thinking that someone else asking the questions, someone actually connected to the incident itself, will be what works?" he asks as he sets the pots of jam and peanut butter on the table by the toast.

"I've never had anyone actually connected with the incident on hand to try before," I shrug. "It's the one thing that's been missing all these years. Someone who knew both him and Charlie back then and who's willing to go carefully to get the answers."

"Go call her then," he tells me. "I'll make his tea and while they chat I want to show you what my ID search threw up."

I thank him and do just that. She answers my call on the first ring, assures me that she's fine even though she hardly slept overnight, and that she'd be happy to come by.

Edward's sitting at the kitchen table nibbling on his toast when I come out of my office. He's got his glasses on despite having no newspaper on hand to read.

He doesn't realise that the glasses are fakes. Clear glass set into proper optical frames. It's not his eyesight that's a problem; it's the fuzziness in his head after he's switched personalities that bothers him.

The physical manifestations of his problems were getting worse I had to admit to myself as I watched him take tiny bites and struggle to swallow the bread.

He wasn't sleeping nearly enough and when he did he moaned and thrashed through the night. His hands shook almost constantly. He was pale and drawn, looked older than he should and his eyes were starting to fade to deadness.

"That nice girl Isabella from the restaurant is coming over shortly," I tell him cautiously.

"What for?" he mumbles around his toast.

"She called while you were in the shower to tell me you'd dropped your wallet in her office," I say as convincingly as I can. "She's pretty worried about you," I tell him, which isn't a lie so I find it easier to say. "You weren't feeling too well before we left and she's concerned that you might have eaten something at her establishment that was less than...well, that upset your stomach."

He looks at me a long time then nods wearily, as though he doesn't care. He probably doesn't. The way he's feeling I doubt he cares about much more than sleeping and eating. And probably not all that much about the eating I think as he shoves the half finished slice of toast away from himself.

"I'll be in the living room," he mumbles as I watch him slowly walk away.

**BPOV**

Approaching the house felt different this time. This time I had an invitation and I knew I wouldn't need to scale any walls, or dangle from any trees to get an audience. It didn't mean I was any less nervous though.

I'd come on foot last time but this time I was in my car so I had to lean out of the open driver's side window to press the button by the gate. I expected either Emmett or Jasper to talk to me through it, instead the gate swung open almost instantly.

"How simple it is," I mutter sarcastically as I drive slowly through the gates. I park beside a dark blue Mercedes and take a second to calm myself down before I go to the door.

Emmett greets me enthusiastically and slips a black leather wallet into my hand, as he'd told me he would on the phone. I pocket it quickly and step through the door.

"Come into my office for a minute," he says quietly and then leads me just around the corner. "He's groggy this morning," he says once we're inside the room and the door is shut. "He's always like that after he's slipped into or out of one of his alter egos but he's okay," he assures me.

"Won't me being here just make this worse?" I ask, even though I know that Edward is my one and only shot at learning what happened to my dad I didn't want to do the guy any more damage all the same.

Emmett regards me for a long moment and then smiles. "I'm so pleased you're worried about him," he whispers, "he needs someone to worry about him. But I think we both need to be prepared for the possibility that we're going to have to hurt him to help him."

"You worry about him," I point out carefully. "I know you do."

"I do," he sighs, as though that's something he should be ashamed of.

"My dad worried about him too you know? He loved that guy like his own son," I tell him.

"I figured as much after meeting you," he says cryptically. "He's in the living room and I'll be right here, so will Jasper, so any problems either call for us or use your alarm."

I take it out of my pocket and show him I still have it. "Where's the living room?" I ask.

"Back the way we came in, turn right at the hall and go all the way to the end," he tells me before wishing me luck.

The house is enormous, bigger still than the one he'd lived in with my dad. It was also a lot plainer. There was no colour at all. Just a stark cream on the walls and brown or black furniture. Nothing at all like the homey one he'd had before.

There aren't any pictures on the walls here either I think sadly as I step into the living room and find Edward lying on a long sofa, a hand thrown over his eyes.

I cough to announce my presence and he sits up immediately.

"Hello Edward," I whisper as I go further into the room.

"Hello Isabella," he says roughly as he rubs his eyes with his palms.

"You dropped this in my office last night," I say, holding out the wallet.

"I didn't realise," he says as he takes it from me. "Thank you so much for coming all this way to return it."

"I don't mind," I tell him, feeling awkward now that the 'reason' I was there was out of the way. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well," I say in a rush.

"It wasn't your food," he says just as hurriedly, "you don't have to worry."

"I was worried," I say before I can stop myself. "May I sit?" I ask, nodding towards one of the armchairs opposite his position. He nods his permission and I sit carefully on the edge, placing my bag at my feet. "I wasn't worried about you because of the restaurant," I say carefully. "I was worried about you because you were my friend once."

"I was?" he asks, eyebrows raised. "I don't remember you, I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head.

"I know you don't," I say firmly, trying to keep the disappointment and the nerves out of my voice like Emmett suggested.

"Did we go to school together or something?" he asks as he slides his wallet onto the coffee table between us.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I knew you during the time that you made the first film in the Mission series."

He tilts his head then, gazing at me carefully and I imagine I can see his brain straining to work out who I was to him. "Were you an extra?" he asks.

"No, Edward," I sigh. "I used to visit you in your home sometimes. You even came to the restaurant sometimes too. Do you remember the restaurant at all?"

His hands are shaking as they rake nervously through his hair. "I don't know," he says sadly. "I don't remember a lot these days. I think I drink," he mumbles but I hear him.

I edge forward a little more. "The bodyguard you had before Emmett used to bring you to the restaurant," I tell him cryptically, keeping daddy's name out of it as Emmett had asked me to. "That was before I started working there and your bodyguard would bring you in the evenings for a meal."

"The smoke," he whispers as his body begins to shake.

"The cops that ate there always smoked," I tell him gently, pleased he'd at least remembered something, even if it was something small. "You and your bodyguard would slip into the main bar and have a cigar with the other policemen after dinner."

"I smoked cigars?" he asks.

"You did," I assure him. "You always had smoked cigarettes I think, but your bodyguard preferred cigars and pretty soon so did you."

"You didn't like it," he mumbles. "You never came with us. You always sat in the booth with your assignments while we smoked."

I smile then. He'd remembered something else, something true, something tangible. "Yes," I say as calmly as I can.

"We had to sit at the very end of the bar so we could see you, watch you, make sure you were alright," he whispers, probably to himself.

"I didn't know that," I say, getting a little excited that he'd remembered that detail without prompting.

"What were you studying?" he asks after a moments silence.

"Accounting."

"Did I know that, before, when you knew me?" he asks.

"You did," I say matter of factly. "You were good at it too. You used to help me with my assignments."

"I did?" he asks, almost disbelievingly. "I'm not good with numbers now. I think I drink," he mumbles again as he slumps back against the sofa.

He kept saying that, that he thought he was a drinker, and even though I knew it was untrue I did as Emmett said and didn't make mention of his mental health issues.

"You have a headache?" I ask and he nods as he closes his eyes. "I'll be right back," I tell him as I get to my feet and retrace my steps back to the front foyer.

From there I locate the kitchen and take some bottled water from the huge refrigerator. On my way back to the living room I stick my head into the other corridors and rooms and find a small powder room. I take the hand towel from its ring on the wall and wet it under the tap of the small hand basin. Then I go back to the living room.

I uncap the bottle of water and hand it to him with the instruction to drink. He does, swallowing almost half the bottle before handing it back. I set it on the coffee table before sitting beside him. "Keep your eyes closed," I whisper as I put my hand to his shoulder and settle him as far back as he'll go against the back of the sofa.

I lay the cloth against his forehead and once it's lying there of its own accord I pull his right hand into my lap. He flinches at the contact and I whisper that everything's alright, that I won't hurt him, as I begin to rub my thumbs into the web of skin between his index finger and thumb.

I rub hard, knowing how pressure points work.

He groans, long and low, but I keep rubbing. Slowly but firmly I push into that pad of flesh.

"You didn't have headaches when I knew you," I whisper as I rub. "You didn't drink very much either," I tell him gently. "Your bodyguard didn't like alcohol, he said it made his brain fuzzy and he made bad decisions when he drank."

"I don't remember," he moans.

"Shhh," I coo as I pull his other hand into my lap and begin rubbing that one. "I know you don't remember, but I'd like you to," I say gently. "He was a good man, your bodyguard. Strong and loyal and he loved you. Would've done anything for you, and did," I say, trying to keep the hitch of emotion from my voice as I rub his hand.

"I don't remember," he moans again.

"I know," I say again as I begin to dig the pads of my fingers into his. "He was there, you know, he was there the day you got the nod to be James Goodall again for the second film. He was so proud of you, so proud of how hard you'd worked to get the role."

"I don't remember," he slurs as his breathing deepens.

"I know you don't," I say for what felt like the hundredth time.

**Emmett POV**

"Look at that," I say to Jasper as I point to the monitor beside him.

He looks up and whistles through his teeth. "Cosy," he mumbles before returning his attention back to his own screen.

"Not cosy," I say firmly, "peaceful."

And they did look peaceful. Bella had his hand in hers and she was rubbing it rhythmically. Ed looked like he might be asleep. I'd never seen anything like it in the five years I'd known him. He'd never looked comfortable, ever, even when he was in his own bed and was safe and warm, he'd never looked as comfortable as he did right then.

I'd turned the audio feed off the instant she'd joined him in the room so I had no clue what they'd talked about, and I didn't want to know. Not really. Not unless he had a turn or it went wrong. If she shared any information that she'd gathered that was well and good, but I wouldn't insist.

"Switch feeds on that monitor, give them some privacy," I tell him. "Now, what did you want to show me from your ID search?" I ask Jasper as I put my own paperwork aside.

He does the same and then pulls up his notes on the screen for me to see.

"I know you'd had no luck finding anything about Edward Cullen," he says as he opens more pages, "and even though we now know that his real surname is Masen there isn't a lot to see," he says. "Apart from the usual shit on the fan websites and the sites linked to his movies that is."

"Yeah," I agree.

"But, now that we know his real name it was pretty simple to find out where he came from," he tells me as he hands me a typed, printed, double spaced report across the desk.

He'd been busy I thought as I read down it. Ed's kindergarten was listed; his elementary school, middle and high schools and a list of some of his classes and the names and addresses of a few classmates were there too.

"How the fuck?" I ask as I turn the page over and read some more.

"Everyone always looks in the official places," he shrugs as though what he'd found was nothing.

"You don't," I said matter of factly.

"Nope," he grins back. "The official places show that Edward Cullen, or Masen rather, doesn't exist, just like we knew they would. But in the last eight years or so there's a far more accurate way to track down information about someone who wants to be invisible."

"He's got an FBI file?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

He laughs then. A full blown belly laugh. "Not that I know of, but I'll be checking that out," he winks, making me shudder to think just what this guy was capable of with a decent computer under his fingertips, or Alice as his ally. "No, it's simpler than that, boss. Social media. Twitter, Facebook, MySpace. School friends reunited is a good one although it's damned tricky to get anyone to tell you anything without stealing the identity of someone they actually knew from school. I prefer forums and chat rooms."

"Forums and chat rooms?" I ask, totally blown away at the cleverness of the ploy.

"Yeah," he shrugs. "When someone wants to disappear they get talked about in forums and chat rooms in past tenses. Like, remember that guy who...sort of thing. But Edward didn't actually disappear. He got famous. And rich. So the talk doesn't go away, it just changes direction."

"How so?" I ask, not following and kicking myself mentally for it.

"There's lots of chatter out there about him from people who knew him as a child, or from school, and even one guy who knew him from a part time job he had while he was at acting school," he tells me as he hands me another report. "Lots of people remember him as Edward Masen and most of them still talk about him, in the context of him being famous now, so it wasn't too hard to put names to faces and work out who and when they knew him from reading their posts."

"Anything that will help us now?" I ask as I skim the report.

"Not really," he says disappointedly. "I've managed to trace a few people who said they were his friends in high school, and that one guy who worked with him, but not anyone who can help us now I don't think."

"What about his parents?" I ask.

"Ahhh, they're a pretty open book," he tells me as he shuffles pages at his elbow before handing me one. "They're registered on nearly all the official fan sites and they're members of all the websites that review movies and actors. They follow pretty closely. There are a lot of messages for him to contact them any way he can and a lot of Facebook posts wishing him a happy birthday, a nice Christmas, things like that."

"They've got to be going out of their minds," I say sadly as I read the report.

"Probably," he agrees. "They still haven't touched that money you put into their account the other day."

"Shit," I mutter darkly. "I'm going to give Alice a call and see if she has time to meet with you," I tell him as I set the reports into a folder.

"She's the one who ran the license for me that day," he grinned.

"She's sneaky as fuck," I chuckle, "I think you two will get on pretty well."

"I'm not sneaky," he protests jovially, "I'm thorough."

"That you are, my friend, that you are," I agree. "Go and meet with her at her place so you can see the set up she's got."

"You set it up and I'll meet her wherever," he shrugs.

"Done," I tell him. "Can you see if you can find anything at all about other employees that might have worked for Ed, or Charlie, around the time of his death? I've never been able to find anything but you might have more luck Mr Forums and Chatrooms," I chuckle. "And while you're digging, see if you can find out if Ed ever made it to the San Diego Comicon the year Charlie died."

"On it, boss," he grins as he begins clicking away at the keyboard again.

I'm about to ask him to get a financial history organised on the Masens for when he sees Alice when the front gate buzzer goes. "Oh fuck," I mutter as I get a look at the car that's sitting at the gates.

"Who's that?"

"That's the antichrist," I hiss. "That's Tanya fucking Denali."

**BPOV**

He's so peaceful as he sleeps. His lips are slack and his eyes flutter beneath his eyelids as he dreams. I hope they're nice dreams I think as I set his hand back into his lap and remove the towel from his forehead.

He snuffles then shifts a little, sort of burrowing back into the sofa a little more and I wonder if he's cold. There's nothing in the room to cover him with so I take the towel back to the kitchen and hang it over the oven door handle to dry, then I go in search of a linen cupboard.

I find the butler's pantry and go through it to a huge laundry room. It's spotless. Gleaming stainless steel appliances and plain white counter tops. I open each of the doors on the enormous cupboards and hit pay dirt on the third one.

I pull down a throw rug and go back to the living room. He's curled himself onto his side and is snoring gently. I can't help but smile down at him. He looks like a little boy taking his mid morning nap.

I cover him gently with the blanket and do my best to tuck it in around him without waking him. I sit at his feet and lean my head back against the back of the sofa. I close my eyes, hoping to rest a little myself after a bad night's sleep.

I come awake with a jolt some time later, disoriented and frightened, at the sound of shouting.

"You can't just barge in there," I hear a male shouting as I spring to my feet, disturbing Edward beside me.

"He's my client, I can go where I like," a woman screeches back.

I know that voice. Edward seems to as well. He's on his feet then too, his eyes searching for...probably an escape I think to myself as I grab my purse and clutch it to my chest.

The telltale sound of heels clicking on tile reaches us and we both brace for her arrival into the living room. I can see Edward tensing out of the corner of my eye and I instantly feel sorry for him. Tanya Denali was a mean, overbearing control freak and her catching me here was going to be awful.

She comes into the room like a black mist. Her strawberry blonde mane flying behind her, her piercing almost black eyes trained right on me as she comes to a halt behind the sofa.

"How..." she begins before Emmett places one of his very large hands on her forearm.

"It's none of your business," he hisses into her ear.

I watch as she softens her stance and her facial features visibly. She's still pissed, oh yeah, she's plenty pissed, but she can't let it show and I know why.

"Isabella," she simpers. "How lovely to see you again."

"Tanya," is all I can muster as I begin to move past Edward and towards the nearest exit. "I have to go," I mumble as I get closer to Emmett.

"Edward, why don't you show Miss Swan out and I'll make Miss Denali comfortable," Emmett suggests through gritted teeth.

Edward looks shell shocked. Dazed. I watch, annoyed, as he rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. I'd only just gotten rid of that headache for him I want to shout.

He raises his eyes to mine, nods minutely, and then comes to my side. "I'll see you out," he mumbles beside me.

"Bye Emmett," I say softly, ignoring Tanya completely.

"Thanks for stopping by," Emmett says through his still gritted teeth.

I follow Edward out of the room. He holds the front door open for me and I rush past, eager to be out of the house now. I think he's stayed at the door but when I've pulled my keys from my bag and used the clicker to unlock the car he's there, at my side, opening the door for me.

"Thank you," he murmurs softly by my ear.

I don't know what he's thanking me for and I can't find my voice right then so I simply nod and get into my car. He closes the door for me after I've got my seatbelt on and just as I'm wondering how I'm going to get the gates to open they open on their own.

I look in the rearview mirror and see Jasper standing at the office window, his hand raised as a goodbye.

I raise mine, hoping he can see it, and as soon as the gates are fully open I flee.

**EPOV**

I watch her turn at the street and can't help but sigh.

Tanya looked about ready to kill as she'd laid eyes on the girl and I had no clue why. But then, I didn't have much of a clue about anything anymore. The whole world could be going to pot around me and I'd be oblivious.

For a brief, blissful time I'd been headache free thanks to the magical hands of Bella but now I could feel it thumping its tune against my temples again.

I stalk back into the house, angry at having been disturbed from the first decent sleep I'd had in...well, I didn't know how long, but it was a long time.

"I did not give my permission for that woman to be in this house," I hear Tanya hissing as I go back towards the living room.

"Edward doesn't need anyone's permission to have a guest in his own home," Emmett rightly points out.

"That woman has contacted me weekly for months now," Tanya hisses. "She couldn't give me any reason for her needing an audience with him so I've refused every time only to show up here today and see her curled up to him on the sofa!"

"Is there a problem?" I ask as I take a seat in an armchair.

Tanya turns to me in a rush, her cheeks flushing with what looks like anger but could just as well be embarrassment. "Of course not, darling," she simpers. "I'm just doing my job and keeping the wolves from your door," she purrs.

"I don't know any wolves," I tell her pointedly as she too sits in an armchair. "What do you need from me today?" I ask, hoping she's gotten the message that I didn't wish to discuss Isabella Swan with her.

She looks to Emmett before turning back to me. "Just some signatures, darling," she drawls as she reaches into her cavernous satchel and lifts a stack of folders out.

"Grab me a pen, Em?" I ask as I take the first sheet from her. I take the proffered pen and start signing.

I don't even bother to read what she's given me anymore. I don't care about any of it.

When I'm done I stand, hoping she will too. She doesn't and I can feel anger rising inside me again. "I'm busy, Tanya," I tell her firmly but still she doesn't rise from the god dammed armchair.

Once again she looks to Emmett before addressing me. "It's my job to make sure that only people with legitimate reasons to see you get past your gates, darling," she says, tilting her head to the side and plastering that awful, fake concerned look on her face that I'd seen so often.

"She has a legitimate reason," I tell her. It wasn't a lie; at least I didn't think it was. I didn't know what she wanted with me but Emmett must.

He wouldn't have let her into my home if she didn't give him a damn good reason for it. I trusted Em.

"She couldn't give _me_ one," Tanya all but snarls before catching herself and smiling at me.

"She gave _me_ one," I lie. I have no idea why I'm covering for Bella Swan, but I feel the need to anyway.

"May I ask what that is?"

I look to Emmett who is standing by her left shoulder. He shakes his head minutely at me. "No," I say simply.

"That is unacceptable," Tanya screeches as she finally gets to her feet.

Emmett has his hand on her shoulder in a heartbeat, his eyes wide with concern for me. I'm right to trust him. He's never done anything to make me doubt that trust so I know that whatever the reason Isabella Swan has given him for a piece of my time it's nothing that can hurt me.

I can feel the anger getting stronger, hotter, and my body begins to shake with it. I know I'm clenching my fists at my sides but I can't control them. My brain is chanting again. Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, and I don't know why. But it makes me angrier.

"You're my manager, not my fucking keeper, Tanya," I snarl at her.

She's shocked. I can see it in her eyes. But she also knows when she's beaten. She cranes her neck and Emmett takes his hand down off her shoulder as she does. She lowers her eyes and when she returns them to mine they are cold, calculating and utterly ruthless.

The violent red slash of her mouth draws upwards into a cruel smile.

"I keep many things for you, darling," she says, almost unable to keep from spitting the last word through her pursed lips. "I keep you in work. I keep you in money. I keep you famous. Don't forget that. I'll show myself out," she adds before striding out of the room.

Emmett catches me as I collapse back onto the sofa. "Let it go," he begs as he helps me to lie down. "Just let it all go."

**Emmett POV**

While Edward was seeing Bella out Tanya had let fly.

She'd accused me of going behind her back and admitting Bella into the house against her express wishes. She'd screamed and shouted that Bella was dangerous, that she had been harassing her, Tanya, for months trying to gain access to Edward and that by letting her into the house I was personally responsible for any problems any association between the two of them would bring.

And she was dead sure there would be problems.

When I'd pressed her for details she clammed right up.

She'd changed tack and gone on to inform me that it was she, Tanya, who employed me and that if I wanted to see out the remainder of my contract I should not allow Edward out of my sight and keep Bella away from him.

She hadn't bothered to veil the threat. She hadn't bothered to sugar coat it and she hadn't been smart enough to cover her reaction to seeing Bella.

Tanya had been scared.

Of what I had no clue, but she'd just given me reason enough to check her out. Something I'd never done before, not deeply.

Edward sobbed for a good twenty minutes after she left. His mumbles became more slurred until he was completely incoherent to me. I carried him to his bathroom, knowing what would come next. He retched for what felt like an age and then eventually threw up before collapsing against me.

I put him into his bed, set a glass of water on the bedside cabinet and hoped he'd sleep off his headache and his fear.

Then I marched through the house towards my office with my head full of venomous thoughts about Tanya Denali.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. It's blown us both away how fast, and just how many of you are interested in this story. Our thanks to everyone who is reading but most especially to those who have taken the time to contact me and give me your thoughts. **

**I've replied to everyone, I think, so if I have missed anyone please let me know and I will rectify that as soon as I can. **

**Maxi**

**xxxx**

* * *

><p><strong>Jasper POV<strong>

I'd done as Emmett had asked but it was tough to stay in the office while that shit had gone down in the living room.

Bella was upset as she'd driven away and Edward was visibly shaken after the confrontation with Tanya.

I wanted, so badly, to be in there defending my mark just like Emmett, but I understood why he'd wanted me kept out of sight.

Tanya had no idea I'd been employed because Emmett didn't run his budget by her. She had no visual on me, no clue what my name was or what I was doing there, and that could be very, very handy later on.

What wasn't so great was that she now knew that Bella had spoken with Ed. Of course Bella had a right to, but we now knew that Tanya would be desperate to make sure the opportunity never arose again. I had no clue why, and I was pretty sure Em didn't either, but if he was anything like me he could join dots and paint a picture.

Tanya either knew something, was hiding something or was partly or indirectly responsible for whatever happened to Edward the day Charlie died.

We just had to figure out which one of those pictures was the right one, figure out why, prove it and then keep trying to help Ed.

Tanya's fury meant one more thing...Bella was more than likely in danger.

I watch the monitor, feeling helpless, as Emmett tries to settle Ed on the sofa. The poor kid is so tired, so out of it, and I am as desperate as Em is to work out a way to help him. I could almost imagine Em's hoarse whisper of 'you poor little bugger' though I can clearly read his lips without the benefit of an audio feed. I watch as Emmett lifts him and carries him towards the back of the house and probably to his bed when he couldn't settle on the sofa.

Edward was a victim in all this, as much as Charlie Swan had been, and I was determined to find a way to prove it and to help him recover.

I watch on the monitor as Emmett stomps determinedly up the hall and back towards where I'm waiting for him in the office.

"Call Alice, set up a meeting as soon as she's free," he hisses, his frustration clear, as he comes into the room. "Switch focus; forget finding out who Ed was, that can't help us now. I want to know everything you can find out about Tanya Denali instead. And I want a copy of the old schedules, now."

"Done," I tell him, with relish. "We need to secure Bella," I tell him.

"I'm on it," he barks, though I know his anger isn't directed at me. "I'm going to bury that bitch, Jas," he seethes.

"I'm gonna help," I chuckle as I pick up the handset off the desk and dial Alice Brandon's number.

"You help me solve this and I'll teach you everything I know," he tells me as he dials his cell phone. "I'll make it so that you can run your own crew, your own business, whatever you want," he tells me ferociously.

He needn't have bothered. I was in and I didn't need any other incentive other than to find out what the fuck had happened five years ago and whose ass to kick for it. "You let me help solve it and I'll show you how to hack into FBI databases," I chuckle.

"Deal," he grins as his call answers. "Bella, are you alright sweetheart?" I hear him ask, his voice having lost its nasty edge now.

"Alice, it's Jasper Whitlock calling," I say as my call connects. "Wanna help me fuck over Tanya Denali?" I ask.

"I'll be right over," she trills in her lovely sing song voice.

I hang up at the same time Emmett does. "She's accepted a man," he tells me.

"She's on her way over," I tell him.

**BPOV**

I knew what a bodyguard could do I just didn't want one. But I was smart enough to know that if Tanya had anything to do with my dad's death I needed one. Even if she was just covering up information and hadn't had a hand in it herself I knew she'd do everything she could to make sure I went away.

How 'away' nobody knew. And Emmett didn't want to leave anything to chance.

That's how I found myself sitting opposite Seth Clearwater in my office a few hours later.

"This place is crawling with cops," I tell him after he'd introduced himself. "I'm safe here. It's at home, or on my way to and from here to home that Emmett's concerned about. I think."

"If Emmett's concerned then there's a good reason for it, Ma'am," he said evenly.

"Please call me Bella," I chuckle. "And I don't doubt there's a good reason for it. I just don't think I'll need a guard here."

"Until Emmett tells me otherwise I'll be here, Bella," he grinned, using the name I preferred. "You won't notice me. Just go about your business and let me be your eyes and ears."

"I'm aware of how it works," I tell him. "My dad was a bodyguard."

"Then you know that even if you don't see me, or hear me, I'm there. Twenty-four seven I'll watch and listen. You can trust that."

"But when will you sleep?" I ask.

"While you're in here I'll sleep right there," he tells me, turning slightly and pointing to the small sofa that was up against the wall of my office.

I know it's futile to argue so I simply nod my head. Bodyguards, shadows too, were notoriously stubborn and I was afraid enough of Tanya to agree with Emmett's plan to assign me one. I wasn't about to take any chances with my safety so I simply agreed.

"I'll let the chefs know to give you any food you ask for..." I begin but he cuts me off.

"As far as anyone who works here is concerned I'm your lover," he says matter of factly. "I'm in here because I'm a possessive asshole. They don't feed me. They don't bring me drinks. They knock before they come in here and I'll make sure they hate me come week's end."

"What? Why? Why would you..." I trail off.

"You know why," he grins.

"Yeah," I admit reluctantly. "So nobody asks why I've got a bodyguard. Fine," I huff. "But I'm not kissing you just so you can cement your cover story," I tell him sternly, pointing my index finger at him.

"Oh come on," he chuckles, "the first time someone comes in here and sees us kissing my covers as good as set."

"I don't care," I giggle back.

"I didn't think you would," he laughs. "So you have the alarm Emmett gave you and it's programmed for both of our phones to receive the signal now. Don't hesitate to press it, even if you just don't feel right about a situation, there's never a bad time to use it," he says, switching back to serious business mode easily.

"I'm going to have to insist that you tell me if you are going to leave the restaurant before you actually do and I need you to put me in front of the people you are close to and trust, just so I can get a visual.

"I'm afraid late night partying in public places is not going to be possible for you for a bit but if you give me enough notice I can raise a crew and some social situations can still be managed.

"If you have a boyfriend I'll need to meet him right away and make sure that he understands that all this is just a cover story. I've gotten into fist fights with jealous lovers before and I'd rather avoid it if I can.

"The same goes for casual lovers. I'll need to meet and vet anyone who usually, or normally, has access to you here or at your home for anything other than business. Personally I don't care who you see or who you sleep with, but for your own safety I have to check them out.

"Any deviations in your regular schedule will have to be cleared by me before you can make the changes. That includes taking different routes to and from work. I'll be driving you to and from from now on so I'll need your keys please?" he asks, getting to his feet.

I'm reeling from his list of demands even though I know they aren't actually demands, just rules that are designed to keep me safe. I know and understand them but I don't like a lot of them.

"There's a relief manager here and three chefs who are on a revolving roster. The barman, head waiter and the guy who bounces on a Friday and Saturday night are the staff here that I trust most. I'll introduce you to them as they come in.

"I don't go to nightclubs, parties or even drink very much so the social situation embargo isn't going to bother me. I'm recently divorced and I don't have a boyfriend. No casual lovers or anyone who comes by my house without an invitation.

"Your job on all those fronts is going to be easy but I draw the line at not being able to drive my own car," I huff.

"It wasn't a serving suggestion," he says firmly, still holding his hand out between us for my keys.

"I've done a defensive driving course and I've never had an accident," I counter.

"I'm not asking," he says firmly.

"Can I drive myself sometimes?" I ask, hopefully.

"No. You can't," he says and then he snaps his fingers and nods down to the palm of his upturned hand.

I slap the keys into his palm. "Fine," I huff.

"I'll take the car now and have the modifications done while you work."

"Modifications?"

He doesn't respond, just raises his eyebrows at me and waits for me to back down. I huff 'fine' again and he grins again. "I'll collect my things from my apartment and put them in your spare room. I'll be back in," he looks down at his watch, "Four hours. Be ready to leave then please."

This time I shout fine, but he's already shut the damn door.

**Emmett POV**

I made introductions between Jasper and Alice, gave them a written list of what I needed and left them to it.

While Ed showered I made us some dinner. Plain pasta, a few steamed vegetables and a grilled chicken breast each. I made enough for Alice and Jasper and set theirs in the oven to keep warm while Ed and I had ours.

He looks wrecked when he gets to the table. He looks tired and confused and not a little upset. He does eat steadily which is reassuring.

I clear our plates and ask whether he'd like something sweet.

"Can I have a drink?" he asks, head still down over his place at the table.

"You don't have to ask permission," I sigh. "You're a grown man, Ed. If you want a drink go and get one."

"Will you have one with me, please?" he asks, his voice almost begging. "I don't want to go too far."

"Sure," I tell him. "You wanna go to the bar?"

He nods but doesn't make an audible reply so I just walk down the hall to the back of the house. I get myself a beer and knock its top off. I sit on the same high stool I'd sat on with Jasper that night and wait for the kid to join me.

He isn't far behind but when he does come into the room he looks hesitant, as though he is going to get into trouble for being around alcohol. I watch out the corner of my eye as he goes behind the bar and chooses a beer for himself. He uses an opener to take its top off and then he sits with me at the table.

"What's on your mind?" I ask before taking a swig.

He blows a breath out over his lips and sits back on the stool a little. "Am I an alcoholic?" he asks.

"No," I tell him firmly. "You hardly ever drink. That's the first beer I've seen in your hand all year."

"Why don't I remember things then?" he asks.

I'd waited so long for him to ask me these things that now that he had I was tongue tied. I took a drink to buy some time and then I went slowly.

"You've got some problems," I hedge. "Some problems with your memory. But those problems aren't because you drink. It's because something awful happened to you a long time ago. Your brain makes you forget things that upset you."

He twitches, and then raises wide eyes to me. "Is that why I see Rose?" he asks.

"It is," I tell him truthfully. "She's been trying to help you remember some things, some things that are hiding in your brain."

"I hear things," he whispers so low I only just catch it.

"What sort of things?" I ask cautiously. This is new territory. I didn't know he'd been hearing things.

"Names," he says. "Names sort of swirl around in my head sometimes. The names of people I don't know."

I want to ask what the names are but I cam guess. So while he is willing to talk I keep things vague. "We'll remember to tell Rosie about that at your next visit," I say instead.

"How old am I?" he asks all of a sudden.

"You're twenty nine," I tell him through a rapidly thickening throat.

"I have a headache all the time," he says next, as though it's a federal offence.

"Rose thinks it's because your brain is working so hard hiding things."

"Did I hurt someone?"

"No!" I shout a little too quickly and a little too loudly. "No," I say more calmly. "You've never hurt anyone. Why do you think you have?"

"A feeling," he mumbles with a shrug. "I dream," he whispers as though it's a big secret he shouldn't share. "There's always blood in my dreams. I thought I might have hurt someone."

Talk about his dreams, which are more like nightmares judging by the thrashing and his screams in the night, is new too. He'd never mentioned them, or having recalled anything from them before, so I tread carefully.

"You might have seen some blood before," I hedge, "on the day that the terrible thing happened to you, you might have seen some."

"I don't remember," he mutters before taking a sip of his drink. "I don't trust Tanya," he blurts, quickly covering his mouth with his hand. "I don't trust her but I don't know why. Is that wrong? She's my manager."

I smile at him then. "I don't trust her either," I confide. "And I know this won't make any sense to you right now, but I need you to put up with her for just a little bit longer, okay?"

"Help me," he begs, his hand reaching for mine across the expanse of the table.

I feel no awkwardness as I give mine to him. He clings to me, squeezing my hand hard. "I've been helping you for five years Ed, I'm not going to stop now. I swear it to you."

He nods his head just once then lets my hand go. He puts the bottle top onto the table and leaves the room.

The conversation is so disconnected, so random, but it is the most we'd ever said to each other on the subject. He didn't understand, didn't remember and was mighty confused, but he was finally asking questions. Finally. After all these years he was finally asking.

I drink the rest of my beer and his and then I go back to my office to make notes so I don't forget these first few tentative conversations.

Both Jasper and Alice have their eyes trained on their respective computer screens when I enter. There's paper everywhere. Scribbled notes on everything. Print outs, pens, scrunched up pages and empty coffee cups litter the surface of the desk.

"I'll make more coffee, be ready to show me what you've found," I tell them as I gather the cups.

I take them to the kitchen, stash them in the dishwasher and then creep down the hall to check on the kid. He's fully dressed and asleep on top of the covers of his bed.

I go back to the kitchen, make another round of coffee and then head back to the office.

"What have you got?" I ask as I set the mugs down.

"I've got fragments of emails that contain schedules, but it's a bit of a mess still," Jasper tells me, although his eyes don't leave the screen he's looking at. "There's a page on the printer but keep in mind I haven't done much to clean it up yet, it's pretty raw."

I take the page off the printer and try and decipher what I'm looking at but it's all jumbled. A garbled mess. "What about you, Alice?" I ask as I sit back down.

"I'm not a forensic financial whiz or anything but even I can tell that Tanya Denali is a crook," she tells me, handing me a sheet of paper but not looking up as she continues to scan the monitor in front of her eyes.

I read the print out slowly, scanning each line of the financial transactions carefully. But I don't see what Alice means. "These are all legitimate payments," I tell her. "Once a month I get paid, once a month she gets paid, once a month the household bills get paid. What am I missing?" I ask.

She hands me another sheet, her eyes never leaving the screen.

"Why the fuck would Ed authorise payment for his agent to go to Tuscany on holiday?" I hiss as I read the page.

"Like I said," Alice snarls, "I'm no forensic financial expert but even I can work out that's not right."

"Mother fucker," I snarl as I read on. "How far back does this go?"

"I've only gone back two years, and I'm only printing off the transactions that look suspicious to me, but there's eight pages so far."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter as I take another proffered sheet of paper to read. "Flights, hotels, jewellery, a mortgage payment!" I roar, startling both of them. "Stop payment from every single one of his accounts!"

"Already done it, boss," Jasper grins. "And I'm just trying to hack into the rest of his financial records, before you ask me to. I'll print out new authorisation letters for access to the new accounts too."

"How did she expect to get away with this?" I ask as I take a look at the other pages Alice had already printed.

"She didn't have to worry," Jasper says on a sigh as the printer begins doing its thing again. "Look," he says with a shake of his head as he hands me the page. "That's his signature."

It was. Right down to the last curl and flourish. "Son of a bitch," I hiss.

"The dates of the transactions coincide with her visits here," he tells me, handing me the journal I'd let him read the day before. "Just as an example we'll look at June of this year. Your notes say she was here on the twelfth, on the thirteenth the paperwork was submitted to the bank for the release of twenty thousand to her personally. On the fourteenth she had a check drawn up for the same amount and made out to," he trailed off while he retrieved yet another piece of paper from the desk. "Here it is, the check was made out to Superior Cruise and Travel."

"Where were we that week?" I ask. "That could be legitimate. We could've been travelling for the shoot. She could've just been paying for our flights."

He flips the pages of the journal and then shakes his head. "The week of the tenth through seventeenth of June the shoot was on hiatus. You were here, all week. He had his regular Wednesday appointment with Rose at her offices."

"Can you find out what Tanya paid for with the check? She could've been prepaying something for him, for later on," I ask desperately, already knowing the answer and dreading the repercussions.

"She flew to Monaco three days later. For a week. In a five star hotel," Alice chimed in as she handed me copies of the bills.

"Nineteen thousand eight hundred dollars," I sigh. "Could be a coincidence," I hedge.

Alice is already shaking her head. "I've already checked her own personal financial situation. She takes ten percent of Ed's earnings monthly, as well as ten percent from nine other clients. There's a couple more clients, not quite famous yet, that she gets trickle amounts from. That's probably because they are only working in dribs and drabs. But what she's making off the main client list is more than enough to fund travel like that," she says, nodding towards the copies of the travel bills.

"We've traced her earnings. It all goes directly into a holding account. She never touches any of it. It all goes in, nothing comes back out, except for one regular payment," Jasper says. "I'm still working on finding out who that's being paid to," he says before I can ask.

"Is she doing the same to her other clients?" I ask, but I know the question is futile. Ed is her only client who isn't mentally stable enough not to check what he's signing.

"Just Ed," Alice confirms sadly.

"He's funding her lifestyle," I hiss. "He's in hell and she's living it up on his dime!"

"Not anymore," Jasper tells me with a smirk. "If she had him sign anything today to access a single dollar she's going to be pretty pissed off tomorrow when she takes it to his bank."

"I can't take this to anyone," I mutter darkly. "There isn't a lawyer on the planet who can fight this," I snarl.

"Probably not," Alice agrees. "That's definitely his signature and unless you want to expose his mental health to the whole world by informing a judge that he wasn't of sound mind to know what he'd signed..." she trails off.

"A rough estimate?" I ask as she begins tapping the keyboard again.

"Like I said I've only gone back two years so far and the totals sitting at about a million three, maybe four."

My head was swimming. There was a red haze in front of my eyes as my anger built and built. I could hear as well as feel the blood pumping between my ears.

"Top right hand drawer, pass me the address book," I ask of Jasper, as calmly as I can. I tell him thank you, flip to the page I want and then pull the handset on my desk closer. I dial the numbers through blurry, rage filled vision and when the call connects I ask to speak to Aro Volturi.

Both Alice and Jasper grin.

**EPOV**

I wake to a darkened room.

My brain snaps to attention, ready for action.

The night is my time. My time to train, to hone my skills, to invent and to test those inventions.

I'd had an idea floating around in my head for days, the details still unclear but the application solid. I needed supplies. I check the time and see that it is just nine o'clock. Plenty of hours left for me to perfect my idea.

I march through the house confident that my implemented security measures would alert me to any intruder stupid enough to take on James Goodall.

The place is silent save for the swishing of the dishwasher in the kitchen and the telltale grunt and groan of someone in the gym.

I find my butler there, punching timidly at the speed ball.

My gaze goes to those infernal magnetic gloves that still hang tauntingly from the metal bracket atop my punching bag. Damn things! I would have to revise the specs on those at some point too.

"I need you to find me a camera specialist and a cobbler," I tell him before turning on my heel and leaving the room. One had to be firm with one's help.

The impertinent snit follows me down the hall, calling for me to halt my progress towards sustenance.

"You're planning to put a camera in a shoe?" my manservant asks me.

I round on him. "How can you know that? It's classified. I'm watching you," I tell him firmly. "I'll find out who your contact is and destroy them," I tell him even more firmly.

"I don't have a bloody contact," he hisses, but I am not convinced. "You can't put a camera in a shoe, you'll get arrested for perversion," he sighs.

I have no idea what his meaning is. "A concealed camera capable of both audio and video would be handy if installed in the toe of a shoe," I tell him impatiently. "Totally undetectable by civilians and other spies alike."

"And you'll get arrested as a pervert," he mumbles. "The law looks dimly on men who have concealed recording equipment. They'll see it as you wanting to get pictures up girls skirts," he tells me condescendingly.

"I'm above the law," I tell him firmly. "And why would I want to look up girls skirts? What information could I possibly gain from that?"

"If you don't know I'm not telling you," he sighs.

"Then you'll find me a cobbler and a camera expert," I tell him dismissively. I turn on my heel again and go into the kitchen.

I think I hear him say 'not a fucking chance' but I must have not heard him correctly. My manservant is very narrow minded, but he isn't insolent.

I make myself a sandwich and think about the conversation. There may be something in the information he'd given me regarding the law I muse as I spread the peanut butter thickly.

I was above the law, that much was for certain. But, proving that before being arrested and thrown into a cell could be tricky and I'd spent enough nights sleeping on a stained mattress behind bars already.

My manservant was quite correct.

I abandon my culinary pursuits and march back down the hall to the gymnasium. I burst through the door and revise my instructions.

"I have changed my mind," I announce. "Source me a miniature camera and a pair of plain, black sunglasses. Preferably with metal frames," I tell him before leaving once again.

"There are spy glasses already on the market," he calls after me.

"If my organisation hasn't issued me a pair then the ones already on the market must be inferior," I inform him. "I will make my own." He has no idea about such things and I feel it is my place to educate him sometimes. It's wearying.

He seems to think on it a moment, the impertinent urchin, and then caves to my will and demands. "I have what you need already. Let me wash up and I'll bring them to you," he tells me as he slips off his gloves.

"I shall be in my lab. Knock when you have the supplies," I tell him before making my way to the back of the house to prepare my tools.

**Emmett POV**

There's no dealing with him when he's like this I think as I go into the office and take a shitty pair of sunglasses from the box in the closet.

"A shoe camera," I sigh as I take one of the spare tiny surveillance cameras from its packaging.

Placating him was always the better option and I figured he couldn't get into too much trouble if he was only going to put a camera into the frames of a pair of glasses, so I retrieved the two items and went to his 'lab'.

I knock, only because he'll bitch like an idiot if I don't, and when I'm granted entry I hand over the items and hightail it out of there quick smart.

He'd actually done me a favour. Sam was arriving shortly to go over our schedule plans for the coming days and I needed him to meet Jasper, so Ed being otherwise occupied was a good thing.

I find Alice and Jasper locked in conversation over their ruined dinner. We'd totally forgotten about it in the excitement of learning Tanya's deceptions but they didn't seem to be taking a lot of notice of what they were eating anyway.

I go back to the office and flick through my emails while I wait for Sam.

There was, as promised and despite the late hour, a lengthy one from the office of Aro Volturi. I'd met him three years prior at a film festival red carpet. I was there guarding Ed up the carpet, he was there as the current manager of a very high profile, very hot red headed starlet who had promptly taken an overdose of sleeping pills three months later.

We'd had a beer that night, after the premiere of Shadow Mission Three: Ellipse, and we'd been friends ever since. He was a great guy in private and a real hard ass in public.

He'd explained why that night. I'd seen his point and bought another round and at three thirty the next morning I'd poured him into a taxi with his card in my pocket and a promise to call should the kid ever want to switch management.

I'd seen him on and off at other functions over the years and every time we got together I woke up with a shitty hangover and the vague memory of a good time had. He also extracted the same promise out of me at the end of every one of our visits. He wanted the kid on his books.

I'd kept the card all these years and figured it was worth asking the question. There was no way he'd have an open slot, he was big time now and every star worth their salt wanted to be one of Aro's.

The call had been brief and to the point. I'd informed him that Miss Denali was on the out and wondered if he wanted to get in on the kid's little slice of fame.

He'd played it cool but I knew him well enough to catch the excitement in his voice as he jacked up his normal ten percent cut to eleven.

I figured another couple of grand wouldn't matter to the kid in the scheme of things seeing as Tanya had already taken him for over a million, so I asked Aro to email me a list of who he was working with at the moment and a list of what my boy would get for his eleven percent.

An hour and a half later and I had the email, as well as the lists, and they were impressive. Very impressive.

All I had to do was sell it to Ed.

After his confession that he didn't trust Tanya I didn't think it was going to have to be that hard a sell.

But, I couldn't do the pitch while he thought he was James Goodall.

The gate buzzer goes at exactly ten and after a quick glance at the monitor to make sure it was Sam who'd rung I press the button to let him onto the grounds.

After a quick round of introductions with both Alice and Jasper the three of us guys settled down to go over the schedule while Alice settled in behind a computer screen to keep working on tracking how far back Tanya's fraud really went.

An hour later we had a working plan for the first of Edward's promotional engagements for the fourth Mission film. Fortunately it was a red carpet event and premiere of the completed film at a theatre right in the heart of Los Angeles to be held in two days time.

It was going to be a nightmare. These things always were. But it being in our home town made things slightly less aggravating.

The theatre held nine hundred odd asses and almost all of those were going to be Hollywood royalty. As well as the full cast, crew, VIP's, investors, producers and a hundred and forty fans who had entered competitions all over the world for the privilege.

Sam would utilise all of the seven junior bodyguards we'd used on the last red carpet. Quil, Embry, Paul and Leah would report directly to me on the day but Sam would be able to direct them through earpieces should anything go wrong. Jared, another of our team, would position himself on the roof of a nearby hotel. He'd be our eyes in the sky.

The final pairing would be Brady and Collin, two more guys that were on Sam's team.

They were the two most important pieces in the puzzle. They were the extraction team. If all of us perished in the defence of the mark those two were responsible for getting Ed out of danger, away from the theatre and back to his home, or to the secondary location we'd chosen as his 'safe point'.

Sam himself would remain in the shadows.

It was difficult to train and retain a good shadow. Staying hidden day in day out wasn't everyone's idea of a good time. Staying in separate hotels when we were on the move, travelling in a separate vehicle, eating alone and generally being invisible wasn't everyone's cup of tea.

It _was_ Sam's though.

A quieter guy I'd never met. He was supremely comfortable with his own company, seemed to thrive in isolation and never, ever complained.

We would be using three of Ed's vehicles on the day as well as another one I'd hired. Sam would use the hired one to get himself to a nearby, hidden location that was close enough for him to be able to take control of my mark should I be injured or fatally wounded, but far enough away for him to remain hidden from the cameras and recording equipment at the event. He would take over with Jaspers help should I be unable to see the job to its conclusion.

Ed would travel with me and Jasper.

Quil and Embry would use another vehicle and go ahead of us, Leah and Paul would bring up the rear in the fourth vehicle. Once we were safely on the carpet itself the other vehicles would go around the block and wait for us at the rear of the theatre.

Almost all of the other VIPs' would arrive in rented limousines but I couldn't guarantee Ed's safety and privacy in a rented car so we used our own. Nobody cared. As long as Edward turned up and was coherent they didn't care what he arrived in.

We had to be stepping out of the car at exactly seven twenty so Sam and his team would need to be in place and ready to go by seven with the two cars of extra bodies that would flank us being in the driveway and ready to roll by seven ten.

I could tell that Jasper thought the set up, with so many bodies on duty for the night, was overkill, but he was wrong.

Nine hundred bodies, seven hundred of which were VIP targets in their own right, coupled together with more than a hundred of the general public inside the theatre itself and we were walking into a nightmare of biblical proportions. A nightmare that I couldn't completely vet.

The VIP's would have their own security teams, and I knew a lot of them personally, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for a whackjob to take a pot shot at one of them and another, nearby, completely unrelated celebrity to take the hit.

Then there were the hundred and forty competition winners, none of whom would be vetted by me. There would be rudimentary checks on them, but I wouldn't have access to their personal details prior to the event so they were essentially unknown entities to me. Any one of them could've entered the competition to get at my mark directly and I had to plan for that eventuality.

The actual red carpet itself would be the most dangerous time for Edward. He'd be publicly exposed and I couldn't be at his shoulder as often as I'd want to be. As the star of the film he'd be expected to pose for hundreds of pictures, sign thousands of autographs and stand with thousands of fans that would line the red carpet for hours before we arrived.

Jasper and I would walk the course at midday and again at four before the event began, coordinating with the head of security for the theatre and the production company. We'd check the metal barriers were secure, that the carpet itself was secured to the ground safely and that the gathering crowds weren't intoxicated or unruly before Edward arrived.

Anyone who even slightly resembled someone on my list of nutjobs would be watched by Jared from the roof above.

Once Ed was on the carpet itself I would have to stand aside and let him do his thing. I hated it. He hated it. But the fans loved and expected it. The production company paid him to do it.

They'd paw him, claw at him, yell, scream and demand of him and he'd give and give and give until he was exhausted. He always did.

Sam was getting ready to leave, our meeting and the following weeks agenda sorted out, when there was a bright, white flash of light outside the office window.

All four of us were on our feet, rushing towards the window to see what it was, when a body flew past it. There was a dull thud on the ground and then another bright flash of the same light.

"Oh for fucks sake," I roar as I realise that the flying body is Ed, falling from the balcony above us. "Call your wife, Sam," I shout as I rush out of the office and out of the front door.

**EPOV**

I was blind!

I'd never woken up totally blind before.

I'd never woken up so sore either.

Or so cold.

And why did the room smell of lavender?

"Ed! Ed!" I heard being shouted from somewhere to my left.

"I'm over here," I say into the dark.

"Jesus, what have you done?" the voice asks me. It's Emmett and he doesn't sound nearly as panicked as he should be if I've woken up blind.

"I'm blind," I say, flailing my arms from side to side to try and work out why my bed felt so nature-y.

"Can you feel your legs?" he asks as I feel hands gripping me on the shoulders, holding me down.

I reach down and run my hands over my limbs. "My hands work," I say.

"Not what I meant," comes a low rumble in response. "Don't move, Emily's on her way."

Emily was my doctor. She was also Sam's wife. She'd seen my butt when she'd given me a shot once.

"I need an eye doctor, Em."

"No you don't," he chides. I hear him moving behind me and then the snap of plastic. "Shit, Ed. You've glued the camera onto the frames the wrong way around. The flash would've temporarily blinded you, that's all."

"What camera?" I ask, confused.

He doesn't answer. I hear more footsteps and then Sam's voice.

"Emily's on her way," he tells us. "She says don't move him but keep him warm and give him water. Jasper's gone for the blankets, Alice for the water."

"Alice is here?" I ask.

"She came to meet Jasper," Em tells me. "Just lie still for a bit."

"Where am I?" I ask.

"In the front garden," Emmett sighs.

"That would explain the stick up my ass."

"I warned you I'd remove it for you one day, Ed," Emmett chuckles.

**Emmett POV**

Emily pronounced Ed sore, scratched and bruised but otherwise fine. The flash of light in his eyes would wear off on its own, probably overnight, which meant he'd have to stay in his bed.

And after the few days we'd just had with him, or rather with James Goodall, his bed was the safest place for him to be.

I see both Emily and Sam out, dismiss Jasper and Alice for the night and offer her the use of a spare bedroom since it's so late. She hadn't finished her research into Tanya's shenanigans and she said she wanted to have another crack at it in the morning, so I showed her where the towels were kept and wished her a good night.

Then I go up to the second floor to relock the external doors there.

Edward, or rather James, had picked the lock on the door that led to the staircase, again. I'd have to get a locksmith to come and replace it, again.

There were only two rooms upstairs. What should've been the master suite and an attached living room. Ed hated it up there. He said he felt too disconnected and isolated up there and after his attempt to fly using a jet pack from the balcony off the bedroom I'd had the door at the top of the stairs locked permanently.

Of course it wasn't a jet pack, it was the vacuum cleaner he'd switched to blow instead of suck, but Ed, or rather James, had insisted it would do the trick.

Of course it didn't. Apparently it needed more power.

I doubted I'd be able to keep the press from hearing about _another_ winch and harness to get the famous Edward Cullen off his own balcony, again.

He'd prised open the balcony doors, again. Something else for the locksmith to see to in the morning.

I use cable ties around the handles to secure it temporarily and then do the same at the top of the stairs.

I check on him once more and find him sound asleep. Under the covers this time. Hopefully he'd stay there until morning.

I go to check on our guest and find the spare bedroom empty. I move to the next, then the next and find them all empty. No Alice.

I double back along the hall and go towards where Jasper and I live.

I don't get far. The grunts and groans let me know where she is, and what she's doing.

Half his luck I think to myself as I close the hallway door behind me. I knew putting them together professionally would be a good fit, seems they were a good fit in other ways too.

It's nearly midnight so I know that Seth will be checking in with me within minutes so I make my way back to my office.

He's right on time and the call comes through at exactly midnight.

"Hey boss," he says when I answer. "We're back from the restaurant safely and I've got the place in lockdown here."

"Any problems?" I ask.

"Just the one," he sighs. "I took her car to have our tracking device fitted but there was already one there."

"You're fucking kidding?" I hiss.

"I wish I was," he sighs again. "I've left it there, and it's definitely operational."

"Any idea how long it's been there?"

"A while judging by how filthy it is. More than a few days, at a guess, at least."

I think for a second to decide my next move. I had no idea who would want to trace Bella's movements, but I wanted to know. Badly.

"Alright. Here's what we're going to do," I tell him. "After you've dropped her at work tomorrow you take the vehicle back to our guys. Have them take pictures of the one you found. Take down serial numbers and model numbers and any other distinguishing marks but I want it left intact, and working if it already is. I'll have Alice run the specs, see if she can't back trace who owns it."

"Done," he says.

"Until we know what's going on there I don't want her left alone after you're finished with the car tomorrow, capice?"

"Capice," he says firmly.

"I'll have Sam come sweep the house," I add as an afterthought. "If someone wants to know where she's going they might want to know who she's seeing."

"There's nothing to see indoors with the naked eye," he tells me so I know he's checked as best he can without electronic equipment.

"Good. Keep her calm. Don't tell her about the tracker. Don't tell her about someone sweeping the house. It's just business as usual, right?"

"Right. She's asleep now and I've got a lock on her schedule. We're heading to the restaurant for opening at eleven. I'll check in with you at midday unless something else comes up, boss."

"Good. Keep a lid on things," I tell him and end the call. "Who the fuck wants to know where you go Isabella Swan?" I muse as I stare at the now silent phone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.**

**Please review. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Emmett POV**

Saturday dawned bright and clear, which was the total opposite of how I felt.

My head was swimming with fragmented information. I felt disconnected because I couldn't make a single piece of that information fit with anything else to form a theory. Not even part of one.

Tanya knew something but I still had no clue how to make her tell it.

I needed Ed to think about Aro's offer.

Someone was tailing Bella.

The Masen's hadn't touched the money I'd shifted into their account.

Edward was remembering tiny pieces but I was just as powerless to help him connect his own dots as I was to connect my own.

But with all of that happening I had a bigger, more urgent problem.

I had thirty six hours to have my mark fit and well enough to face the public and the press at a red carpet event.

There was no easy way to ensure that. No tricks, no illusion I could employ and no hoax I could pull off. He had to do it himself. He had to answer questions and be upright, headache free if possible, for four hours at a minimum.

I'd had this looming before. He'd done dozens of these things in the years I'd been guarding him, but now he was even more out of control than he usually was.

That meant I had to keep him calm and get him well rested and then get him mentally prepared for the onslaught of all those press and fans.

Edward was already sitting at the kitchen table when I got there. He had a cup of tea in front of him as well as the newspaper. The remnants of his breakfast were on a plate at his elbow. This was a good start.

My mark looked no worse for wear from his fall, from what I could see of the outside of him anyway, and he'd eaten and was drinking tea. It could've been worse I think as I move into the kitchen proper.

Alice and Jasper are side by side at the kitchen sink, rinsing dishes, and both greet me with an apologetic grin when I tell them good morning.

"Sorry boss," Jasper whispers as I move beside him to refill the kettle.

"None of my business," I tell him sincerely. "As long as it doesn't interfere with work I have no problem."

"It won't," he assures me, Alice echoing his statement quickly. "We've made breakfast," he tells me as he turns to take a tray out of the oven.

"Load me up," I chuckle when I catch sight of the bacon and eggs. I accept the plate and go and sit with Ed. "How you feeling this morning?" I ask.

"A bit sore," he says with a shrug.

"How're your eyes?" I ask around my first mouthful of egg.

"Better," he says a little more brightly. "How did I fall?"

"You were stargazing," Alice chimes in, saving me from having to think of a reason on my feet. "It was really clear last night and you said you wanted to see the stars. You must have slipped."

"Must have," Ed agrees easily enough.

"We've already eaten," Jasper announces as he closes the door on the dishwasher. "We're going to get back to work."

"I'll be in soon," I tell him and then turn back to Ed. "I wanted to ask you if you've heard the name Aro Volturi?"

"He's an agent," he says without looking up from his paper.

Good start I think to myself. "Do you remember talking with me the other night about how you feel about Tanya?"

He folds the newspaper back up, sips from his tea and then stares at me with wide eyes. "I don't trust her," he says matter of factly.

"I don't either," I tell him. "Your contract with her says you can terminate her services whenever you like. You don't even need to give her a reason. Did you know that?"

"I don't remember," he says blandly, his go to response these days.

"It was a long time ago," I nod carefully, needing to keep him on subject and not let him wander. "Well, like I said, you can terminate the contract anytime and seeing as you aren't happy with her services I thought you might like to consider Aro's."

"He'd never take me on," he mumbles. "He's got a stable full of A-listers. I wouldn't even get an audience."

I smile then. He didn't understand his pulling power, or how to take control of himself or his career. But I did. "It's true he's got a good group of celebs on his list," I grin, "but he's been saying for years that he'd love for you to join that list, if you ever wanted to switch from Tanya that is."

"He has?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"He has," I tell him firmly. "I talked to him last night. He's sent me some information about the ways he can represent you and I think it's worth thinking about."

"Tanya won't be happy," he mumbles.

"No, she won't," I agree. "But your contract is air tight. _She's_ contracted to _you_. You're her employer. You can end that relationship anytime you like."

"She'll get mad. She'll yell and scream at me."

"She'll probably try," I agree. "But you don't have to listen, if you don't want to. This is your house so she can't come here uninvited if you don't want her to anymore. You have the right to say no. She can't hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you."

He eyes me carefully for a few seconds and then gives a little nod. "I don't want her to be able to just come inside here anytime she likes anymore. I can't work with her if I don't trust her," he says quite firmly. "If it's possible I don't want to listen to her yelling anymore." I hope that means he believes I'll protect him from her so I nod. "I'll read what Aro sent you," he says timidly.

"Thank you," I sigh, relieved.

"Now I need a favour," he says cautiously and I'm all ears.

"Whatever you need," I tell him. He's never, ever asked for a damn thing and this felt like progress.

"Can I have a phone?" he asks, eyes crinkled up as though it's a big deal.

"There's one right there," I say, pointing to the handset on the kitchen counter.

"Can I use it?" he asks.

"Of course you can!" I say, getting up out of my chair and grabbing it. I put it on the table right in front of him. "It's yours. You call anyone you like. Any time you like. Jesus, Ed, you're a grown man and you pay the bill for the damn line. You don't have to ask me these things. If you want to do something just do it."

"I don't know her number," he whispers, but I catch it.

"Numbers are easy to find," I say, not wanting to tip my hand that I knew exactly who it was he wanted to call.

"You have it already," he says, ducking his chin so I can't see his eyes.

"I'll write it down," I tell him, not wanting to embarrass him, or make him come out and say her name to me. I take the pen off the counter and write Bella's home, work and cell numbers on the top of the newspaper. "She'll be going to the restaurant for eleven, so she'll be at home if you want to call her now," I say as I get to my feet.

"Thank you," he mumbles and as I pass by him I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze.

"Talk to her," I advise carefully. "She's a nice girl and she knew you before..." I trail off, hoping he'll get my meaning.

"She said we were friends. I think I need a friend," is his soft reply. "Another one I mean. I have you, I know that."

"She's an excellent choice," I say simply. "I'll need you for an hour or so this afternoon," I remind him. "I've got the running timesheets for the red carpet and there's a list of preferred responses that the production company would like you to consider for the press tomorrow night, so if you want to invite her over, or go and see her, I can organise that for you this morning," I tell him before leaving him there, staring down at the numbers on the paper.

**EPOV**

I key in the first four numbers and then balk, three times, before I have the nerve to finish inputting them and press dial.

I stand from the table and walk with the phone, nervous and unsure what I'm going to say, but having a feeling that I should just touch base with her none the less.

"Swan residence," says a decidedly masculine voice when the call is answered.

I hang up immediately.

There's a man there. In her house. At...I look down at my watch, at nine o'clock on a Saturday morning. A man.

The handset in my hand rings, startling me, and I almost drop it. I look down at the number and see that it's hers.

"Hello," I answer it cautiously, not wanting to be yelled at by the man for disturbing their time together.

"Hey, you just called here, the call must have dropped out," says the man.

"Yeah," I mumble. "Um, I was wanting to talk to Bella."

"Oh sure," he says, "Can I ask who's calling?"

"Um, it's Edward."

"Oh hey," he says cheerily, like he knows me, "she's outside sitting in the sun reading the papers; I'll just go get her."

I wait, listening to his footsteps and then I hear him tell Bella the phone is for her. And then her soft voice is filling my ear.

"Hi Edward, how are you?" she asks.

"I'm okay," I tell her as evenly as I can, desperately trying to keep the stammer out of my voice. "Are you well?" I ask when I can think of nothing else to say.

"I am," she replies. "What are you up to today?"

"Um," I say, wracking my brain for something intelligent to say. "I have a red carpet tomorrow night so I have some work to do this afternoon but I'm not doing anything at all until then."

"Wow, a red carpet," she whistles.

"What are you doing this morning?" I ask, wanting to prolong the conversation even though now that I had her on the line I couldn't remember what it was I wanted to speak to her about.

"As little as possible," she laughs. "I have to go in to work later so I'm sitting in the sun reading the papers until then."

"I was reading them too," I say, stupidly.

"You used to pour over them," she says brightly. "We used to sit out by the pool and work on the crossword together."

"We did?"

"We did," she confirms. "You used to get frustrated after we'd filled in all the words we could work out properly, so we'd fill in the blanks and make up our own words to finish it," she giggles.

"I don't remember," I say quietly.

"You will, one day," she replies just as quietly. "Do you have the paper handy?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"I'm stuck on sixty six across," she says. I can hear the shuffling of the paper on her end as I sit back down at the table and open my copy to the right page. "The clue is trap. I've got it starting with s and the fourth letter is r."

I run my finger across the page to find the clue, and then look at the letters I'd already filled in around it. "Snare," I tell her triumphantly.

"Oh shoot," she giggles. "Of course it's snare."

"I'm stuck on fifty down," I tell her. "Australian bear makes no sense to me. I don't think they have bears."

"It's koala if the other one is snare," she says, sounding a little triumphant herself.

"Koala!" I all but shout. "I've held one of those things," I tell her as I write the letters in the little squares. "They're cute but they smell awful."

"I didn't know that, that they smell bad," she says. "Where did you get to hold one?" she asks.

I lean back in my chair and smile. "We shot parts of Mission two in Sydney," I tell her. "They've got this awesome zoo there..."

**Emmett POV**

"Turn the audio off now," I tell Jasper, who's smiling as widely as I am now that Ed had settled down and his conversation had become more relaxed.

The three of us sat in the office all morning. I checked on Ed now and then, and he was relaxed and as happy as I'd ever seen him after his call with Bella. She'd had to end the call only because she had needed to go to work and I wondered if they'd have spoken all day long had they had the chance.

Lunch was simple, just a plate of sandwiches, and once that was cleaned up Ed went off to the library to read over the information from the production company for the red carpet the next day, and the pages Aro had emailed. That gave the three of us more hours to sift through the mountain of printed pages of information about Tanya we now had.

There were twelve pages of suspicious transactions from Edward's accounts, all drawn on by Tanya, and all accompanied by his signature on the presented forms at his bank.

We had print outs of her personal financial history, her professional financial history and page after page of information about the other clients she had.

We still had no idea who it was she paid every month or why, but both Alice and Jasper assured me that they'd find out, eventually. It wasn't an overly huge amount, five thousand dollars on the first of every month, and on her salary that was a pittance. The frustration for us was that she paid it from her personal account every month, not the business account. The amount she'd stolen from Ed over the years would've covered whatever the payments were for but as yet Jasper hadn't linked the amounts to each other. He said he would, I just had to be patient. Not one of my strongest personality traits.

None of us knew whether the information was relevant to what we needed, but knowing as much about the woman as we could wasn't ever going to be a waste of time.

None of what we did know helped me at all. Not as far as Edward was concerned anyway. He was the only client she had diddled and we knew why she'd picked him to swindle. Other than that it was useless.

Jasper had already severed her ability to get at his money and until she attempted that- which couldn't happen until at least Monday when the banks reopened – there was nothing any of us could do with that information.

I got Alice and Jasper to switch focus to her employees.

They told me that would take a while because it wasn't just Tanya's security systems they had to get round but also the governments. Privacy laws sucked ass, as Jasper so eloquently put it. It wasn't impossible to get the lists, just difficult.

He was tapping at the keyboard furiously so I knew he was working hard on it.

Alice was at a loose end, helping Jasper with the donkey work, until Seth arrived with the details of the tracking device from Bella's car.

Alice' eyes had lit up when he'd handed her his scribbled notes and the pictures he'd taken of the actual device and then her fingers were flying over the keyboard too.

I took Seth out into the kitchen with me to fetch more coffee for the hackers and asked him how he'd gone overnight with Bella.

"All good, boss," he assured me. "She didn't sleep very well, or for very long, but I figure she's got a lot on her mind."

"Yeah, she has," I agree as I set out clean mugs. "Sam at her place now?" I ask.

"He was arriving just as we were leaving, it was close," he chuckled.

"I don't want her knowing he was there, she'll only get frightened," I remind him.

"I know," he says, his hands held up in surrender. "We left late because your guy kept her on the phone so long," he chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I don't want any gossip about this," I warn, pointing the spoon at him. "I don't want their friendship exposed in the press and I don't want anyone else gossiping about it. Remember you're supposed to be playing the part of her lover, not him."

"It's all good, boss," he says with a firm nod of his head. "Unless Sam finds a bug nobody will ever know they spoke. Two or three more days and everyone at her work and in her street will know I'm 'with' her," he says, making the quotes with his fingers.

"Good," I say firmly as I pour the boiled water into the mugs. "Do you think there's a need to install our own security at her house?" I ask as I hand him his drink.

"Not that I can see, so far," he replies. "The locks are good ones, deadbolts, window locks with keys, the high fences are all in good condition and her neighbours are far enough away that I'll be able to spot anything out of the ordinary if anyone attempts to get a look at her from the sides."

"She's an ex cop's daughter," I chuckle, thinking about the locks and deadbolts. "Find out if she can defend herself."

"She can," he tells confidently. "She's got certificates and plaques from martial arts training studios, she's done a few self defense courses and she's got a canister of mace in her purse. It was out of date so I changed it out."

"You went through her purse?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"Sure," he shrugs. "Know your mark and all that."

"You're braver than I am," I shudder. "A woman's purse is sacred, or so I've been led to believe."

"She'll never know."

"I hope not, for your sake," I tell him.

**BPOV**

My office phone had been ringing off the hook all day so when it rang not five minutes after I'd ended the last call I didn't think twice about answering it.

"Stay away from him," came the garbled, electronic voice on the other end of the call when I answer.

I'm startled for a second, unable to take in what I'd heard, let alone understand the command.

"Stay away from him," it said again.

And it was an it, neither male nor female, just electronic and distorted.

"Who is this?" I demand.

"You've received my warning," is the only reply and then I hear the telltale beeps of the call having been disconnected.

I stare at the handset a moment; still not sure I'd really had the strange conversation. I set the phone down and quickly write down what had been said on the blotter on my desk.

I stare at the words and realise that it could mean a few things.

One, someone didn't want me near Edward. Two, someone didn't want me near Seth or three, someone didn't want me near anyone male at all.

There are already several suspects in my mind. I take the little alarm out of my pocket and hit the red button without thinking twice. I take up the handset again and sure enough within thirty seconds it rang in my hand.

"What's happened?" I hear Emmett demand on the line.

I retell my tale and wait while he confers with Seth, who he tells me is there with him. I hear a woman's voice in the background too and wonder who that is but I don't have long to consider that.

"Stay where you are, I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't let anyone into your office until I arrive," Seth all but shouts at me. "Answer the phone if it rings and if the same voice comes on the line try and keep them talking. Alice will try and trace the call. Stay put," he says and then disconnects the call before I can ask who Alice is.

"Well," I mumble as I put the phone back down. "It would've been nice to be told there was a tracer on my phone," I hiss.

I wasn't stupid and I'd listened when my dad had had spoken about his job. You needed a tracer on a line before a call could be tracked to its originator. It stood to reason that if there was one on my office phone there'd be one on my home phone by now too.

That thought made me shake.

I'd talked to Edward for nearly two hours just that morning and then I'd received the vague threat on the office phone.

Someone had either listened to that call or had seen me coming or going at Edward's house. Or, and the thought made me shake a little harder, someone had seen him here at the restaurant.

There was nothing I could do about the latter, the restaurant was a public place and any one of the customers could've been the one to take issue with me being near Edward. That was impossible to deduce. But the phone situation wasn't.

I tug open my desk drawer and take out the jewellers screwdriver I kept there. It was handy for tightening the little screws on the frames of my sunglasses and for prising open the casing on a telephone handset I chuckle as I bite my bottom lip and do just that.

"Well, lookie here," I mutter darkly as I spot the tiny black wrapped parcel inside the handset.

I didn't dare disconnect it, not if whoever Alice was did manage to trace the call, so I leave it where it is. I push the two halves of the handset back together and make sure it looks like it should before setting it back in its cradle.

Next I trace the wire that stems from the phones cradle on my desk to the wall socket where it's plugged in. I pull the plug out and use my little screwdriver to prise that open too.

Sure enough there's an extra wire in it. I know it's extra because it's not a part of the wires that go to the handset; rather it's wrapped around those and has been attached to the pins that go into the wall. That was the tracer and it was Emmett's work, or at least Seth's on Emmett's command.

I put everything back the way I found it and test the handset to make sure it still works after my amateur investigation. I hear a dial tone when I switch the handset on so I figure I've not upset anything.

I take half a minute to be angry at not being told about these things and then I tear my office apart looking for bugs.

And not the creepy crawly variety.

**Emmett POV**

I pace while I wait for Seth's call.

I look down at my watch for the hundredth time and calculate the travel time. Ten minutes if he avoided the main arterial route, which he would.

I added another five for him to assure himself of Bella's safety and then added another ten for him to make himself aware of our tracer and to locate the bug in the handset.

Twenty five minutes tops.

He'd already been gone thirty eight.

"He'll call," Jasper assured me.

"He'd better," I mutter as I check my watch again.

**BPOV**

I look at my watch when the knock on my office door comes.

I let Seth in then wait for him to do his thing.

I mentally allot him five minutes to do as I had already done, namely check both the handset and its plug in the wall for the tracer and the bug. Then I mentally allow him another five minutes to ransack the office, also as I had just done, looking for the other bug I'd already found and pocketed.

"The tracer is yours?" I ask once he's done.

"Emmett's," he admits.

"The bug in the phone?" I ask.

"Not ours," he grimaces, looking down at the little black plastic item he'd removed from the handset.

"We're leaving," I tell him abruptly after that.

"We are?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"We are," I say firmly as I swing my bag over my shoulder. "And I'm driving," I tell him matter of factly.

I hold out my hand for the car keys and he eyes first my hand then me before deciding to hand them over. "I need to make a call first," he tells me but I'm already shaking my head.

"No calls," I hiss and nod towards the door to the office.

**Emmett POV**

After forty nine minutes I try his cell phone. It rings out and goes to voicemail. The message I leave him is less than complimentary about his reporting skills and may have contained direct threats to his manhood.

I dial Bella's office and it rings out. No voicemail. Her cell goes directly to voicemail and even though I don't say anything nasty the tone of my voice will let her know that I am seriously worried for her.

I check my watch again and see that it's now a full hour since Seth left.

I'm about to collect my car keys and go to the restaurant myself when the gate buzzer goes. I snap my eyes to the monitor that's trained on the entrance to the property and see that it's Bella's car sitting there waiting for entry.

"Let the car in," I tell Jasper, who is closest to the button that will allow entry.

I go to the front door, reef it open and let it slam back into place after me as I run down the four shallow steps and out into the drive.

I see Seth in the passenger seat and see that Bella is the driver of the car. I start to panic.

If he's hurt and wasn't able to drive...

My panic increases as Bella fishtails the car to a stop, barely missing Ed's Mercedes.

I don't have time to look Seth over where he sits still inside the car because Bella leaps from within it and runs towards me.

"What is it?" I bellow as we both run to one another. I'm looking her over and can see no obvious injury or ailment.

The slap she delivers to my cheek stops me in my tracks.

"That's for putting a trace on the phone line in my fucking office!" she screeches as she drops a small, black plastic wrapped parcel into my hand. "And for putting a tracker on my car!" she bellows into my face. "And this is for having my house swept without telling me!" she shouts as she stomps her booted foot down on the top of my own, luckily, steel capped one.

With that she promptly bursts into tears, flops down on her ass, on the gravel, in the middle of the drive, and loses her shit.

Seth's gotten out of the car while I've been busy being assaulted. He strides towards us but says nothing.

I give Bella a good minute to sob her heart out and then I reach for her gently. "Shhh, honey, it's all going to be alright," I tell her softly as I scoop her up into my arms and begin the short walk to the house. She doesn't fight me; in fact she curls herself into my chest and cries harder. "You couldn't answer your fucking phone?" I ask Seth as we walk.

"She wouldn't let me," he yells back.

He holds the front door open for me. "I want a trace on that bug now," I tell him and drop the black plastic item Bella had shoved at me onto the tiled floor of the foyer.

"I'll give it to Alice with this one," he says. He scoops up the one I'd dropped for him then shows me another one in his hand before he heads for the office.

I shift Bella in my arms a little and then walk down through the living room towards the library. I can't knock on the door so I simply lean down and use my elbow on the handle.

Edward comes to his feet the instant I come through the door with Bella in my arms.

"What's happened? Are you alright?" he asks, already panicking for her.

"She's fine, just had a fright," I tell him as I lower her to the sofa.

"Bella?" he asks, already reaching for her hand as he sits beside her.

"I'm okay," she cries, her voice hitching on a sob.

"What do I do?" Ed asks me, his eyes pleading.

"You listen to what she's got to tell you and then you come find me when you're ready," I tell him as I back out of the room and head back to the office.

**EPOV**

I don't know what to do, and Emmett's instructions give me no idea either, so I do for her what she'd done for me just the day before.

I leap to my feet, reassuring her that I'd be right back, and run through the house to fetch a bottle of water and a wet facecloth from my bathroom. On the way back through the living room I snatch up the box of tissues on a side table and take those too.

I sit on the coffee table in front of the loveseat Emmett put her on and hold out the now uncapped bottle of water for her. She drinks a little then passes it back, just as I had done.

I offer her the wet towel and she wipes her face with it before handing that back too. I hold out the box of tissues and she pulls two free of it and then settles back against the sofa.

"You can talk to me," I say softly as I recap the water and fold the towel.

Her eyes are red rimmed when they find mine. "Someone called me at the restaurant today and warned me to stay away from someone else," she says with a sniff.

"Am I allowed to know who these people are?" I ask as I take a seat beside her.

She turns a little, lifting her knees onto it so we are facing one another. "I don't know who they are," she whispers. "The voice was all distorted, like you hear in the movies when the bad guy doesn't want anyone to be able to pick his voice."

"So you don't know who they were warning you not to see either?" I ask.

"Maybe you, maybe Seth," she mumbles.

"You know Seth?" I ask, a strange feeling welling up inside me at the thought of her maybe 'seeing' him.

"He's been assigned to me," she whispers.

I'm shocked but also relieved. Seth is a bodyguard, just like Emmett, although he is quite a bit younger he is still very capable and Emmett often included him in the team when we were travelling. "Did Emmett assign him?" I ask but she's already nodding her head. For some reason that makes me happy too, despite the worry I feel for her safety. "Why does Emmett think you need watching?"

"I don't know," she says before the tears begin to fall from her eyes again. "At first I thought it might be because Tanya was so angry to see me here talking to you the other day, but now I just don't know."

I think about that a second before speaking, "Tanya _was_ very angry," I tell her. "I don't understand why, not completely, and I don't know if whatever she's angry about is enough to make her want to threaten you."

"She remembers me from before," Bella whispers.

"From when you and I were friends?" I ask and she nods. "Was there a problem with us being friends before?"

"No," she whispers before wiping at her eyes with the tissue. "Oh Edward, it's so hard to make you understand."

"Please try," I say before I can check myself. "I want to understand."

She reaches for my hand then, pulling it into her lap. I let her do it because I think she needs to and because it feels nice for me.

"I want to try and explain," she says quietly, staring down at my fingers in hers. "And I have tried to explain it to you before, but you get upset and, um, you sort of go away and come back as someone else."

"I what?" I ask, not comprehending that at all. Her eyes are brimming with tears when she looks up at me and I want nothing other than to make her pain go away.

"Emmett says your brain is working hard to protect you from something awful so you fade away and come back different when you're upset," she tells me as those tears spill over and slide down her cheek.

"He said something similar to me," I tell her as I watch the tears fall. I don't like it. I don't like seeing her upset. So I reach out, with my free hand, and run my thumb under her eye. "Don't cry," I whisper, "please don't cry. It'll be alright," I tell her, though I have no clue whether that's the truth or not. "Start at the beginning," I suggest, "Emmett said you got a fright today, is that because of the call, or something else?" I ask, ignoring my own desperation to understand what was happening in my own brain and concentrating on what was happening for her.

"The call did frighten me," she admits, "but other things did too."

"You can tell me. I'll keep your confidence."

"I know you will," she says with a little smile. "After the call came I called Emmett and then he passed the phone to Seth who told me to stay put, that he'd be there in a few minutes, and that if the caller did call back I should try and keep them on the line long enough for Alice to trace the call. I don't even know who this Alice is, but for her to trace the caller that meant there was a tracer already on the phone in my office!" she shouts at the end.

"Alice works for Emmett sometimes," I tell her. "I don't know what she does, but I do know her, so you don't have to be frightened of her."

"I'm not frightened of Alice, even though I don't know her," she concedes, "and I wasn't frightened about there being a trace on my office phone, either. But I was angry. Nobody told me it was there."

"Emmett probably forgot to tell you," I offer.

"Emmett doesn't forget squat," she hisses.

"No, Emmett doesn't forget squat," I agree with a small grin. "What else?" I ask.

She sighs then, rubs under her eyes with the tissue and throws it onto the coffee table. "Well, I started wondering what else Emmett had done that I didn't know about. So I pulled the phone apart and found a bug. I left it there because, well, I just left that one there. Then I wondered about the rest of the office and I found another one. I took that one and gave it to Emmett just now.

"And then I got mad. And then I started wondering what the hell else I hadn't known about so I tipped out my handbag and checked there was nothing in it that shouldn't be there. And I found a new can of mace. Mine still had a month or more on its expiry so I knew this one was new.

"And then, after Seth had showed up," she bit her bottom lip then and seemed reluctant to continue.

"What did Seth do to you?" I hiss.

"Nothing," she insists with a squeeze of my hand. "He didn't do anything to me. Honest. I just, um, I lost my temper a bit. I yelled at him and I might have thrown my stapler at his head, he ducked just so you know, and I might have insisted on driving myself over here, which he wasn't happy about."

"Okay," I say, drawing out the word a little. "That's not so bad. He ducked," I chuckle.

"That's not all of it," she mumbles and I urge her to keep going. "We were driving back here and I was sort of ranting and raving. I was pretty angry," she tells me, her eyes wide and her posture defiant. "And I demanded he tell me if there was anything else I didn't know about. Turns out there was," she sighs.

"And?" I ask, impatient now to know it all.

"Seth took my car to have Emmett's tracking device fitted the other day. I sort of figured that was what the modifications he spoke about were and I was sort of okay with that. But nobody told me there was already one there, before Emmett's could be fitted I mean. And then Seth told me that Sam, someone else I don't know, was at my house right then sweeping it for other devices. I got so angry, Edward. I was so mad because nobody told me any of this. And I slapped him," she whispered, lowering her eyes.

"You slapped Seth?" I ask and she nods. "Did he hit you back?" I ask with a snarl.

"Of course not, though I would've deserved it if he did," she says sadly.

"No," I say firmly.

"And I slapped Emmett too," she whispers so low I only just catch it.

"You slapped Em?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"I did," she mumbles.

"Well, he had that coming," I say matter of factly. "He did," I tell her after she's raised her eyes to mine and I can see they're just as wide as they could get. "Your safety is your business. You have a right to know and understand what's going on and he should've told you."

"Thank you," she murmurs.

Her thanks warms me. Makes me feel good. I like it. And in my world there wasn't a lot to like.

What I didn't like was Emmett inserting himself in this woman's life without her permission. His parting words to me, when he'd brought Bella into the library, now made sense.

"Will you excuse me for a few moments?" I ask, getting to my feet. She nods, and swipes at her nose with another tissue. "I'll bring back some coffee," I offer by way of an excuse to extract myself from the room for a few moments.

**Emmett POV**

"What the fuck happened when you got to her?" I demand of Seth when I get to the office after leaving Bella with Ed.

He relates me his tale, punctuated with many, many profanities regarding the attitude, belligerence and the staggering intuition of his mark, and then he slumps back in his seat, spent.

I take a good look at him and easily spot the telltale red welt on his cheek – which I conclude probably matches mine. "What did you get yours for?" I ask, nodding to his cheek.

"Somehow she knew I'd been in her purse," he says quite quietly.

Jasper does his best to hide his snigger but Alice doesn't bother hiding her huff of indignation.

"I warned you," I say. "Ed's going to come looking for me in a few so heads down and try and give me something to tell him when he does," I bark at the three of them.

And I knew he'd come for me. He was going to be pissed and just as belligerent as Bella was right now and for once I welcomed that. He had a protective streak a mile wide when it came to that woman and I for one was all for encouraging it if it meant we'd be one step closer to the truth and he'd be one step closer to who he used to be.

When the clicking and tapping of keyboards is the only sound in the room once again I pull my folders to my side of the desk and start scribbling notes into Bella's file.

**EPOV**

As soon as I am away from the library door I sprint through the house, skidding to a stop at Emmett's office door. I don't knock, it's my house, and he's expecting me anyway.

"A word," I hiss at him as soon as I'm through the door. I don't bother to acknowledge the others and apart from ceasing their tapping on their computers they don't acknowledge me either.

Emmett stands but says nothing, just nods at me and follows me out of the office door and back into the short hall.

"Where?" he asks.

I think for only a second. "Outside," I bark and stride away, leading him out the french doors that form a wall on the eastern side of the living room. Once outside, and the doors are shut behind him, I round on him. "You had no right!" I shout.

"True," he confesses evenly.

"You bugged her office!" I challenge.

"I did," he admits, though he doesn't seem boastful about it.

"And her car! You had her house swept! And went through her purse!" I bellow.

"No," he says calmly, "I didn't go through her purse, that was Seth. But the rest, yes, I did that."

"You had no right!" I shout again.

"Again, that's true," he sighs. "Look, I know I had no right to do it but felt it necessary. I know you're angry, I know she's angry, but think about how you'd feel if something happened to her and I _hadn't_ done those things and we had no clue who had hurt her, or who to start hunting."

I try to think about that and the sick, queasy feeling in my stomach reasserts itself. I concede that point, wholly, and without complaint, but the rest I had to get off my chest. "You deserved to be slapped by her," I tell him, pointing my finger at the pale pink welt still visible on his cheek.

"I did, and I accepted it," is all he says.

"You will apologise to her," I insist.

"I will. As soon as she's calm."

"Might take a while," I sigh.

"Then give her a while," he says simply.

I stare up at him, he's more than a foot taller than me, and note the calmness of his posture and his tone. He isn't sorry, but neither is he pleased with his actions.

"Why is it necessary?" I ask, knowing he'll understand the question.

"I don't know yet," he tells me matter of factly. "There was a bug on her phone at the office, another in the office itself, a tracker on her car and Sam found two bugs at her house. Someone's watching her. Someone's listening to her. And until I can find that person, or Alice can, I'll keep watching her myself."

"Is she in danger?" I ask, my stomach lurching at the thought of her being harmed in any way.

"I don't know," he sighs in reply.

"Is this because of me?"

"There's no way for me to know," he says evenly. "But, the tracker on her car has been there for weeks, at the very least, well before she came here the first time."

"Am I in danger then?" I ask, making the assumption that if someone was watching and listening to her then I might be caught up in whatever is happening to her.

"Again there's no way to know," he tells me.

"I want to know as soon as you know something, and Bella will want to know too. She has a right to know," I remind him.

"And as soon as I do know something I'll tell you, both of you," he assures me.

"I'm afraid," I say without thinking, quickly covering my mouth with my hand, stupidly trying to drag the words back in.

"I know you are," he says gently, stepping closer and putting his huge hand on my shoulder. "And I wish I could tell you not to be, but until I know what's going on I can't. I swear I'll do my best to protect you, both of you."

"Don't leave her alone," I beg.

"Seth won't leave her side from now on. Today was necessary, his brief absence, but it won't happen again."

"Don't leave me alone," I beg next.

"You never are," he reminds me. "Even when I'm not here Sam's watching."

"Thank you," I mumble as he takes his hand down off my shoulder.

"Go and offer her something to eat and drink and I'll get back to trying to work out who's watching her," he tells me as he turns back towards the doors.

I nod after him but he doesn't turn to see it. I go in after him and head for the kitchen to make the coffee I'd promised to return with.

**BPOV**

I watch the two men through the window. Edward is angry, his body held stiff and his chin held high. Like the old Edward I remembered. In control of himself and determined to have his opinion listened to.

It was like stepping back through time, watching him shout at Emmett as he was.

He'd always stood up to my dad, always demanded information regarding his safety and he'd always, always made sure that my father didn't overstep his boundaries when it came to his guarding duties.

Sometimes it had been necessary to overstep, and when he did he always had a good reason and Edward always accepted the reason after the fact. But not before there were harsh words exchanged.

Like they were now.

Emmett held himself still, his shoulders back and his head high too. He wasn't apologising. I knew Edward would be demanding that he did but what I didn't know was enough about Emmett to know whether he would. Time would tell.

I watch the differing emotions flow across Edward's features. His anger abated quickly enough but it was replaced by shock, or fear, or anguish, or all three. Without being able to hear the words spoken I couldn't tell. But he looked frightened to me.

Whatever was said next made Emmett step forward and put his hand on Edward's shoulder. Emmett cared about his mark, just like my dad had. That made me feel good and it made me less angry about what Emmett had sanctioned.

Caring for his mark meant caring for those the mark cared for.

To me it looked as though Emmett cared about my safety.

I didn't appreciate the way he'd gone about keeping me safe, but I did understand it.

With the conversation over I go back to the sofa as the two men come back indoors. I blow my nose, wipe my eyes and straighten my hair as best I can before Edward returns.

He isn't long and he's carrying two cups of coffee when he does come back. He sets them both on the coffee table and then sits back down beside me.

"Emmett will apologise," he says matter of factly, making me smile but I try to hide it.

That he went to bat for me makes my belly flip flop. "I will too, for slapping him," I assure him.

"That's between you and him," he grins as he takes up his mug.

I take mine off the table in front of us and sit back, cradling it in my palms before sipping at it. "Did you yell at him?" I ask, even though I knew that he had, despite not having been able to hear the actual words shouted.

"A bit," he shrugs. "It's not right that he put those things in your office without asking your permission," he says firmly.

"It was because he's worried about my safety, though, right?" I ask.

He nods and then shifts so that we are sort of half facing one another on the sofa. "He said as much but he doesn't understand yet why your safety is being...I don't know the words," he admits.

"He doesn't yet know if or why I'm in danger, just that someone is watching and listening," I finish for him.

"Yes," he sighs.

"Then we'll wait patiently while he tries to find out," I say.

He looks at me then, staring at me, before speaking. "You're very calm about it now," he says.

"I understand what's going through his head," I tell him. "A bodyguard's life isn't easy. They spend every waking hour trying to make sure whoever they're guarding keeps breathing. Threats are all around, especially if their mark is famous, or infamous," I chuckle.

He blows a huff of breath out over his lips and then quirks them up into a little smile. "I don't think I make things easy for Em."

"Probably not," I giggle, "but if he didn't want to do the job he'd move on. He's still here."

"It's more than five years now," he says quietly, a contemplative look crossing his features.

"If he started right after my dad died then its five years, four months and eighteen days," I say matter of factly. I knew how many years, months and days I'd been without my dad.

His eyes are wide as he stares at me then. "That's a long time to put up with someone like me," he says sadly.

"What do you think you do that makes it a hardship for him?" I ask carefully.

He sets his mug back onto the table and clasps his hands in his lap. Probably to hide the shaking, but I've already noticed it so he needn't bother. I don't call him on it though, he's fragile enough.

He seems unwilling to answer so I put my mug back onto the table and strike the same pose as his. Hands clasped in my lap, half turned on the sofa to face him. "You told me earlier that I could talk to you, so I'd like to offer the same to you. You _can_ tell me things, Edward. I won't abuse any trust you give to me."

He eyes me cautiously for just a second and then lets out a long held breath before his shoulders slump just a little and he begins to speak.

"I lose days," he whispers. "I wake up in bed not knowing how I got there. I sleep at odd hours, or at least I think I do. Sometimes I don't remember being awake and yet days have passed.

"I go to work but I don't remember anything I've done while I'm there. Sometimes I see the rushes of the day's scenes and I don't remember having done or said the things the film shows me.

"I've been to the premieres of these movies and the finished product is as much a surprise to me as it is to the audience because I just don't remember making more than a third of it.

"People relate conversations back to me that I don't recall having engaged in. Others tell me places I've been where they've seen me, or talked to me, but I don't remember having been there, or going there, or travelling there.

"And there are people who tell me about these wild and crazy things I've done and said and I have no clue what they're talking about. I wake up in odd places, having done odd things, and I don't know why.

"I hear things in my head. Not voices, or at least not voices that tell me to do things, or say things. Just names. They float around in my head, the names of people I don't know. Repeated on a loop until I want to scream to escape the monotony.

"I dream. Awful, horrible dreams. I wake up terrified even though there's nobody there and I'm in my own bed in my own home, perfectly safe. I see blood. I smell it and see it in these dreams and for hours afterwards. But it's not there, it isn't real, but it feels real.

"I have bruises and cuts and scrapes in places I don't recall injuring myself. I ache all over some days and have no idea why. I have these headaches. A lot. My doctor says I'm physically fine. My therapist says it's because my brain works hard protecting me from awful things. But I don't know what things!" he shouts, his frustrations coming to the surface the longer he speaks.

"And through it all, all the uncertainty, the fear and the pain there's Emmett. He keeps telling me that everything will be alright. That I'm okay. That he's here and he's helping me, that he'll keep me safe, but I don't know what he's keeping me safe from!

"And after all of that, if that isn't enough as it stands, my biggest fear is that he can't keep me safe from myself!"

The shame, fear and self loathing in his voice shatters me.

I leap across the small distance between us and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him up and away from the back of the sofa until he's hard up against me, his head under my chin, his tears soaking the thin material of my blouse.

I hold him tight, my hands and arms locked around him.

I let him cry and don't offer him more platitudes and clichés that I now knew he'd heard a hundred times before.

Instead I tell him that I hear him, that I'm listening, that I'm there and that I'll do whatever he needs me to do to help him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Emmett POV**

I ask Alice, Jasper and Seth for their reports two hours after sending Edward back to the library with food and drink for himself and Bella. They had nothing to report, and neither did I.

At four in the afternoon I ask again and again I am told there is nothing to report.

At six I leave them to it in the office and set about making a meal for everyone. Edward and Bella eat in the dining room, complete with candles and the good silver. The four of us eat in the office around searching for just who is tracking Bella.

At seven I clean up the office dishes and the ones from the dining room and then ask for a private word with Bella.

I apologise profusely for not talking to her prior to installing my own devices and again for not informing her right away when we'd discovered the others. She apologises for slapping me and I readily accept.

But she is disappointed to know that with a dozen of us working nonstop there is nothing to report for the effort. Her disappointment ramps up Edward's fear which in turn ignites her concern for him.

I could see us all sitting up all night long and no good coming of it. Bella would exhaust herself worrying about Edward. Ed would exhaust himself worrying about her. The four of us in the office would get nothing done if we had to take turns checking on them and Sam's team would have to fill in the gaps, exhausting them too when we were all needed on deck the next day for the red carpet event.

So, as much as I didn't want to, I stand the others down from their searching.

I call Sam and tell him to stand his team down and tell him to make sure they get some sleep and a good meal in the morning before they are due to start their duties for the event.

I send Bella home with Seth, run through the notes for the press responses with Ed for twenty minutes and then get him settled in his bedroom for the night before doubling back and insisting that Alice and Jasper shut down their computers for the night too.

I didn't ask and they didn't say whether Alice was spending another night and it didn't matter to me. They'd done nothing to hinder what I'd asked of them and as long as that continued she could spend as many nights as she wanted in Jasper's bed.

With the alarms activated, the cameras recording and the house silent I crawl into my own bed that Saturday night feeling useless and strangely unprepared for whatever was going to happen next.

* * *

><p>Ed is up, showered, dressed, shaved and drinking his tea while reading the paper when I come out of my room the next morning. He says he slept well and he did look clear eyed and rather composed, which is a relief considering the very public performance he is going to have to give that evening.<p>

I leave him there with the promise that he would read over the notes a few more times before the production company's stylist and dresser arrived at three.

Alice and Jasper were already tapping away on their keyboards by the time I wandered in to the office. They greeted me cheerfully but unfortunately not with any new information. All we had was what we already knew.

The bug in Bella's office phone was defunct. It hadn't worked in sometime according to Alice, and any and all trace of who had put it there and why had vanished with its transmission ability.

The other bug, the one Bella had found herself, was still working but tracing its signal origin was a tricky process and Alice told us that it might take days, weeks even, to wade through the firewalls, false trails and probable viruses lying in wait as she traced its owner.

The tracking device from Bella's car was the same. Still in working order but as yet untraceable to its owner.

The two bugs Sam had found in her home were transmitting too, but strangely they were transmitting two different frequencies and weren't linked to each other in any way. Alice said that was unusual. If someone was listening to phone conversations and the spoken word inside her home then it stood to reason that both bugs would work independently but also together, to transmit their data to a single place. But they didn't and they weren't.

So either there was more than one person, or group as Jasper pointed out, that was watching and listening to Isabella Swan or just one person or group who had more than one data collection point for whatever recordings were captured on the equipment.

Sam had installed tracing equipment and our own bugs in her house, with her permission this time, and also outfitted the entire structure and its surrounding land with our own security system.

Anyone entering or leaving the property would trigger an alarm that would sound for me, Jasper and Sam as well as a silent alarm that would alert Seth inside the residence itself.

The same equipment went into her office at the restaurant, again with her permission this time. We installed discreet cameras in the hallway that led to and from her office and two more inside the office itself. One positioned to capture movement by the door, another to capture movement anywhere near where the landline plugged into the wall socket.

Alice requested Bella's laptop and Jasper requested unfettered access to the desktop computer in the restaurant office. Permission was given for both devices to be scoured for bugs and viruses. Alice went to the restaurant to work on the desktop and after a courier had delivered Bella's laptop Jasper set to work on that. And once they'd both been divested of their various viruses and hacking programs my team set to work laying the foundations for some pretty impressive viruses and alarms of our own should anyone attempt to hack them again.

Our equipment was smaller, stronger and virtually undetectable by any other equipment that might be used to find it if someone else tried to do so.

Unless someone physically stole either of the two computers nobody would gain any information from either of them.

It was a relief to have the equipment in place and working but as frustrating as hell not knowing why it needed to be installed.

At ten I check in with Sam who is in the middle of cooking a fry up for his team's lunch and then with Seth who is already in the car driving Bella to work. He reports nothing untoward occurred at her residence the night before and confirms that she will only be in the office for an hour before heading back home to stay until Monday morning.

With our heads down, and only the odd glance at the monitors in the office to check on Ed, we work through the rest of the morning.

At midday I check in with Sam again and make sure he has his eyes and ears trained on the house while Jasper and I go to walk the course.

It is a short trip made longer by the cordoning off of one side of the street and the mass of bodies setting up for the event on the other. We park two blocks away and walk on foot to the location using the time to point out the significant structures and entry and exit points to Jasper as we go.

I show him, vaguely, the location that Sam was going to 'hide' in, which hotel roof Jared will spot from and when we get close to the actual red carpet itself I show him where we'd pull the car up. Before we move into the throng of activity I walk him passed the red carpet – that is still halfway through being laid and tacked down – and around to the back of the theatre.

"Brady and Collin will take the car from us once the mark's safely onto the carpet," I tell him. "They'll bring it here. We've been assigned space numbers two, eight and nine. Quil and Embry will park up in two, Leah and Paul in eight and Brady and Collin in nine. If at any point the mark needs to be away quickly he's to go with Brady and Collin, if it's possible, but any of the three vehicles will suffice in a pinch."

"Is there a designated extraction destination?" he asks as he turns slowly, familiarising himself with the layout of the space.

"There is," I tell him, nodding towards the back of the theatre. "It's already logged into the GPS units in all four vehicles as well as in all the cell phones we operate, including yours," I tell him as we show our ID to the doorman to be let inside. "Should any of us be downed the others will extract him and get him to the safe point. That includes you."

"Understood," he replies though he's probably got a hundred questions stored up already.

I usher him through the back of the theatre and point out the dressing rooms, control booths and the safe points I've already mapped out should the mark need to hide or be collected should anything go wrong while he is inside.

"If you yourself are downed and are unable to cover the mark it'll be Leah and Paul who come for you. You'll meet them tonight when they come to make up the motorcade," I tell him as we show our ID again to a doorman at the front of the building and make our way outside and onto the actual red carpet.

"Are there instructions at the safe point?" he asks as we cross the carpet to inspect the barriers.

"Everything you could possibly need is already at the safe point. Your cell phone has the access codes and contact information already in it and I'll give you the password to access that information before we leave tonight."

"Understood," he says to me before addressing one of the high visibility vested workmen on his side of the carpet. "This one's loose at its base," he tells the guy who nods and moves back up the row to adjust it. "How long is the mark required to stay on his point at the press wall?" he asks as he comes back to my side.

We walk a little further until we come to the press wall he'd spoken of. It's a plywood screen covered in the movie sponsors logo's and slogans and Edward was required to stand in front of it and answer questions from a handpicked press pack that would stand behind the barriers opposite.

"Ten minutes officially but it always blows out to half an hour or more," I tell Jasper who is kicking the bottom of the makeshift wall with the toe of his boot while I jostle the barriers to make sure they're sturdy.

"Who will meet him at the head of the carpet?" he asks as we move away from the wall and go further down along the carpet towards where the car would stop.

"Tanya, unfortunately, the director and two executive producers," I tell him as we split apart and test the barriers on either side of the narrowing carpet.

"Where is he slotted in the order of appearance?" he asks as I cross over and stomp on a loose nail that's been driven through the carpet to secure it to the plywood underneath.

"He's in the middle," I tell him as we move down a little further. "The producers and director will already be here but he's the first of the stars of the actual movie to arrive. They've slotted the supporting actors in and around the arrival of the bigger names coming as guests so our mark will have to keep moving at a steady pace up the carpet so he's not overtaken."

"Bottle necks are an issue," he says, turning to face back the way we've come and staring at the narrow first thirty yards of the carpeted area.

We can both see the diehard fans that are already camped on either side of the barriers. There's maybe a hundred or so already even with another seven hours to go until the event starts.

"They are," I agree, referring to the potential bottleneck of celebrities that all move at a different pace up the carpet. "But this thing is set up to get him, and the other A-listers, off the carpet and into the theatre before the competition winners even begin their walk. As long as the barriers hold, and the press plays nicely, he'll be through here virtually on his own."

"As long as everyone plays the game," he mumbles, nodding towards a rowdy bunch of young people at the midpoint of the barriers.

"Security will move them along if they keep drinking," I assure him. "Come on, let's go introduce you to the head of the production company's security team. You'll like him; he's as camp as a row of tents but the toughest bastard I've ever met. It's unnerving," I chuckle.

**BPOV**

Sundays were my only day off and were supposed to be relaxing. This one wasn't.

I'd already been in to the office and now that I was home again I had nothing to do and nowhere to be. And I was bored, which was weird for me.

When my landline rings I snatch it up eagerly. And to my delight it's Edward.

"You sound nervous," I say once the greetings are out of the way.

"I am," he admits. "I hate these things."

"Necessary but horrid," I agree. "What time are you leaving?"

"They're sending someone to dress me at three," he sighs and I can't contain my giggle. "Don't laugh," he barks, but it's good natured. "I can dress myself, I'm not a child, but the production company has contracts with designers and investors in the fashion industry so they vie for the chance to dress the actors at these things."

"Sounds fun," I say as evenly as I can, desperately trying to keep the mirth out of my voice.

"You suck at hiding your laughter," he chides with a chuckle of his own. "What are you up to tonight?"

"Nothing," I huff.

"No date or anything?" he asks, his voice getting lower as the question went on.

I smile, because it's sweet that he's asking even though I don't know why he's asking. "No, no date. Just me, my dinner and the telly. Oh, and Seth," I grumble.

"I think they're televising the red carpet bit," he mutters.

"They are, I'll be watching too. Throw me a wave," I giggle.

"I'll try and do it without looking like a moron," he grouses, "I wish I could just stay here tonight," he mumbles. "I won't get fed until midnight, probably."

"You won't get time to eat before you go?" I ask.

"There's time, I just won't eat," he says matter of factly. "I get nervous. Really nervous. I don't want to throw up," he says quietly.

"Go into the pantry," I tell him.

"Why?" he asks.

"Just go," I laugh. "I've got an idea. Go into the pantry."

"Okay," he says and I hear his footfalls on the tiles as he moves through the house. "Okay, what am I looking for in here?"

"They'll be on a top shelf. Probably in a jar, not a clear glass one though."

"Okay," he says again, "I'm putting you on speaker so I can look for jars," he huffs. "Okay, there's a few jars at the back of this...holy shit!" he crows and I know he's hit pay dirt.

"Anything good?" I ask.

"Jesus," he whistles, though the sound is faint because I'm on speaker. "There are snakes and jubes. Marshmallows, oh I love those," he mumbles, probably because he's already shoving the sweets into his mouth.

"Don't eat too many or you'll be sick," I giggle.

"There's chocolate too," I hear him squeak before the telltale sound of foil wrapping floats through his end of the phone. "And cookies. God, how come I didn't know these were here but you did?" he asks, louder now that he'd picked up the handset again.

"Just a hunch," I laugh.

"No, tell me," he begs.

"There's a jar of sweets on Emmett's desk in the office and one on the sideboard in the dining room. I figure he's got a sweet tooth so there had to be a stash of them somewhere. The pantry was the obvious first place to look."

"Clever," he says around another sweet.

"After you're dressed to leave tonight stuff a few sweets in your pockets and sneak them now and then. You'll be glad of the sugar," I tell him.

"Clever," he says again, "I love choc chip cookies, he's not getting these back," he mumbles as I hear the crunch of the biscuit through the phone.

"I'll make you a stash of your own," I tell him as I settle on the sofa in my living room. "Now, tell me which celebs are going to be there tonight and which ones are weirdest," I giggle.

"Oh wow," he says, and I can hear the distinct crunch of more cookie on the end of the line, "weird is par for the course, but there's this one guy..."

**EPOV**

Angela Weber is the production company's stylist and I do like her, but I hate what she does to me.

"Stop frowning, you'll undo everything she's already done," she scolds me as another girl pats my forehead with more powder.

"I hate this crap," I hiss, trying my best not to grimace, or frown, and earn myself another scolding.

"I know you do, honey," she says kindly, "but you don't want to look like a sweating warthog in the papers tomorrow so let her do her thing."

"This jacket's too tight," I mutter instead of whining about the makeup.

"It'll make you look slim and trim," Angela tells me, hardly addressing the issue of not being able to move my arms.

"Why can't I wear a plain black suit?" I ask, getting to my feet once I'm released from the makeup monsters clutches, and staring down at the horrid, shiny navy suit I'm wearing.

"Because everyone else will be wearing a plain black suit and you're the star, honey," she says as she goes for my tie on the counter in my bathroom. "Now, just remember, when the press asks who you're wearing just say Dior. You don't have to go into any detail, I've already put all of that into the press packs they'll be given before you get there, so just smile sweetly and say Dior."

"Fine," I mumble as I pull the tie around and under my collar.

"And don't mention anything about who's made your shoes," she reminds me for the tenth time.

I'd had them made myself by a guy in Italy I'd met when we'd been travelling for the second movie in the series. Tanya didn't want anyone to know who the guy was because he wasn't a 'big name'. I didn't see the problem with telling anyone a guy whose name I didn't remember was talented enough to make my shoes by hand. But she did. So I got the reminder not to say anything, again.

Angela tugs my tie into place after making the required knot, looks me over from head to toe, tugs on the ends of my shirt sleeves a little and then announces me good to go.

I shift my shoulders until my shirt sleeves retreat a little and receive a scowl from my stylist. "At least cover your watch, they aren't a sponsor on this one," she says, nodding towards my wrist.

I tug the sleeve of my jacket a little and push my watch a little higher to hide it, smiling sarcastically at her once I'm done. "Can I go out and play now, mommy?" I chuckle.

"Turn around," she instructs instead and I dutifully do as I'm told. "Now raise your hand to wave," she tells me and I do. "And the other hand," she says and I do that next. "The watch has to go," she tells me matter of factly and holds out her hand for it.

I huff, probably childishly, but hand the watch over anyway.

"The wallet in your back pocket too," she says, holding her hand out for that. "Phone too if you've got one on you." I hand both items to her and she assures me they'll go with Emmett when we leave. "What on earth do you have in your jacket pocket?" she asks, staring at my chest.

"Pocket lollies," I grin.

"Oh I don't think so," she says with a shake of her head and comes towards me, probably to steal my stash.

"You can't have them," I tell her firmly, backing away and covering my breast pocket with my hands.

She backs up a little and eyes me carefully, crinkling up her brows as she does. "Alright, you can keep them, but move them from the outside pocket to the inside. And make sure they aren't covered in sugar or anything that'll leave a mark on the suit itself."

"They won't," I assure her, showing her the handful of boiled candies I'd pinched from the pantry jars.

"And don't get caught with one bulging in your cheek either," she chastises.

"I won't," I huff.

"And don't get caught rifling through that pocket to get one."

"I won't," I say a little more firmly.

"God, you won't have sticky hands when you need to shake..."

"Jesus woman," I bark, "they're fucking boiled sweets, not an ounce of crack in a foil packet! A man can eat a sweet if he wants to."

And with that I leave her there, mouth open, and go to find Emmett.

**Emmett POV**

Agitated wasn't how I wanted my mark to begin his event.

But he is, and he isn't showing any signs of calming down as we wait for Leah and Paul to arrive in the last of the trio of vehicles.

I check my watch and see that we still have ten minutes before their due time, and twenty before we absolutely have to leave home.

I take Ed's cell phone from my jacket pocket and dial before handing it to him. "You only have ten minutes," I tell him as he takes it, eyebrows raised in question.

He puts it to his ear and then I hear his confused 'hello' before I hear his sigh of relief as she answers. "I'm so fucking nervous," he whispers into the phone before turning his back to me.

I leave him to it, grateful that Bella seemed able, and willing, to calm him down. It had been a long, long five years of having to try to do it myself and I sucked at it. Even I could admit that.

"Sam's in position," Jasper tells me as he joins me in the driveway.

"And Jared?" I ask as I check, one more time, that the emergency bag I'd packed was still in its place in the trunk of the car.

Jasper touches his ear to activate the earpiece in it. "Sit rep position two," he says. He listens for a few seconds and then turns back to me. "A slight issue with his credentials but he's making his way to the roof now."

"Remind me to beat the shit out of the hotels head of security," I snarl to nobody in particular, though it's Jasper who chuckles a little in response.

I'm as nervous as my mark is but I can't let it show. I hide my sigh of relief when Leah swings the car into the driveway through the already open gates. She pulls up right in front of me, gives me a firm nod to let me know she's ready when we are, then gives me an audible confirmation that everything's good with her and her partner by saying so into my earpiece.

I tell Jasper to go and introduce himself and then turn to gather my mark.

"Ed!" I call across the way. "We're on," I tell him when he turns to me. He nods and then wraps up his call. He hands me the phone, I tuck it into my jacket pocket, and then I get him settled in the back of the Mercedes. Jasper joins us and I ask my mark one last time whether he's comfortable leaving.

"I am now," he tells me, which is new.

Normally he'd tell me he was never going to be ready and to 'just get it over with'. Today he is ready. Bella is a saint!

"We're on the move," I tell Embry, the driver of the lead car as I edge past Leah in the rear car.

"All clear," Embry tells me via his earpiece and then we're off.

**Seth POV**

"Oh look, here they come!" Bella shouts to me over the back of the sofa. "Come and watch."

"I'm coming," I tell her as I yank open the oven and take out the plate she'd made for me. "Who'd I miss?" I ask as I plonk myself down beside her.

"Sara Jessica Parker, James Franco, a couple Kardashians and that girl from the Hunger Games," she says as she turns the television volume up. "Oh look, there's Emmett!"

"He scrubs up nice," I chuckle as I stuff my mouth full of the pasta she'd made. "God this is good," I manage to mumble around another bite.

"Thanks," she says idly. "There he is! Oh his suit is awful. It's shiny. Jeez, who puts Edward Cullen in a shiny blue suit?"

"The stylist," I tell her but she's not listening.

"And there's Jasper!"

"Jeez, look at the crowd," I sigh. "Emmett'll be having chest pains."

"They're behind those fences," she tells me, though I can see that for myself. "Hey! Get your paws off him Missus Grabby-Grabberton!" she yells.

I scoff out loud which earns me a scowl. "Fangirls," I hiss. "Emmett'll step in soon, you watch," I say, pointing my fork at the screen.

"He better," she mutters darkly. "Oh there he goes," she giggles.

I chuckle too as we watch Emmett very politely remove a girls hand from the front of Ed's jacket. "One down, two thousand to go," I laugh.

"They're awful," Bella spits as she slumps back into the sofa and pulls her meal onto her lap. "Oh please," she huffs as we watch a woman hold a baby out in front of herself to have a picture taken.

"Looking for a baby daddy," I laugh.

"Keep looking, skank, move along," she hisses. "Who's that?" she asks, pointing at the screen.

"Director," I tell her around another mouthful. "And the guy to his left is the executive producer."

"Who's the woman there, behind them, talking to the crowd on the other side?" she asks as she reaches for her drink.

"Um, oh, that's Anna Kendrick. She played a supporting role in this one. Some sort of technical genius I think," I tell her with a shrug.

"Love her dress," she admits, a little begrudgingly I think. "Hey! Get off him!" she shouts in the next breath.

I can't help but laugh out loud this time as I watch Anna slip her arm around Ed's waist as they pose side by side for fan pics. "It's his job," I tell her evenly. "There's nothing in it."

"I didn't say there was," she pouts but she's not fooling anyone. She's jealous and it's kinda cute.

"They'll take the camera off him now so he can go do his thing against the wall," I tell her, and sure enough the cameras shift to show the other arriving celebrities.

"The wall?" she asks. I explain what it is and how it works and she nods when she gets it. I explain what a pain in the ass for both the celeb and the bodyguards it is. "Hey, there's, oh, no its not. I thought it was one of the Olsen twins but it's not. Just one of the contest winners."

"What contest?" she asks, turning the volume down again now that the good bit was over for a few minutes.

"The production company ran some competition. Fans could enter for the chance to win tickets to walk the red carpet before going into the actual theatre with the celebs to watch the premiere," I tell her as I put my now empty plate back onto the coffee table.

"Oh, so we probably won't see anyone really famous again now, huh?" she sighs.

"Prolly not," I tell her. "Not until Ed's finished at the wall anyway."

"Hey, those girls are wearing jeans. Not very red carpet-ish," she huffs.

I flick my eyes all over the screen to find the girls in jeans, knowing full well that the contest winners were required to wear evening wear, and then I spot them. I stare at the screen, hoping against hope that what I'm seeing isn't real. "Oh Fuck!" I shout, leaping from the sofa and pressing my ear out of habit, only to remember that I didn't have an earpiece this time.

"What are they doing?" Bella asks, still not seeing what I was seeing.

"Get your things," I shout at her while I dial my cell. I keep one eye on the screen to make sure I can report what I'm seeing accurately.

"What things?" she asks, getting to her feet, eyes wide.

"Your purse, phone, shit like that," I tell her, pointing to the hallway that led to her bedroom. "Sam, they're surging. From point three to about six, maybe seven," I shout into my phone when it's answered. I hang up right away, not waiting for his response, knowing he'd use his headset to alert the others, and then I dial again immediately. "Leah, heads up. They're surging," I tell her, knowing she'd be moving before I ended the call.

"What's happening?" Bella shouts as she skids back into the living room, her handbag now slung over her shoulder. "Who's Leah?"

"Leah's my sister. Look," I tell her, pointing to the screen and the chaos that is unfolding on it. "The barriers aren't holding the crowd back. It's pack mentality," I hiss. "Come on," I tell her as I rush through the room collecting my own things, including the keys to her car.

"Oh my god," she gasps, her hand covering her mouth as she watches the seething, writhing mass of fans move as one towards the celebrities unlucky enough to be still on the carpet, at the back of the queue to get into the theatre itself.

"Come on," I shout, breaking her from her trance in front of the television.

"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice and body trembling as I lead her to her car.

I settle her in the passenger seat, hand her the buckle for the seatbelt, and then run around to the driver's side before answering. "We're going to the house," I tell her as I fishtail the SUV out of the drive.

"Shouldn't we go to the theatre? To help there?" she asks.

I know she's not thinking clearly because only an idiot would try to get anywhere near the theatre right now, so I ignore the question. "We'll wait at the house for them," I tell her instead. "Emily will already be en route and I've got keys to let her in."

"Emily?" she asks.

"Sam's wife, she's a doctor," I tell her as I pull up at a red light. "Nobody's told me that they're heading to the safe house so that means they'll be coming back to Ed's house. We need to be there when they get there." At least I hoped I was doing the right thing by taking Bella there.

I gun it through the intersection the instant the light changes to green but there's no further comment from the passenger seat. She's either in shock or scared out of her tree for Edward, probably a bit of both.

Silence is good though. It means I can concentrate on the road and silently pray to any god who'd listen that my sister was still in her vehicle and not stupid enough to rush into the fray.

**Emmett POV**

The first inkling that something is wrong is the unnaturally loud roar of the crowd. The second is the unmistakable sound of metal hitting metal and the third is the hurried, shouted message from Sam in my earpiece.

"Surge!" I shout to Jasper over the steadily rising sound of screaming behind us.

He reacts immediately, thank god, and grabs the mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him closer to his own body. I do the opposite, grabbing Ed by the forearm and pushing him behind me so that he is sandwiched between us.

We'd cleared the press wall already so the only way to escape the crowd now rushing towards us is towards the theatre itself. There is no way I'm taking my man back to the head of the red carpet.

"Ahead," I tell Jasper using the headset as there is no way to be heard over the crowd now. He's already angling his body that way so it's a simple thing to get Edward to go that way too with a tug on his arm. "Keep your head down," I tell Ed who is doing his best to reef himself out of my grasp.

"Get behind me, man!" I can hear Ed shouting.

I don't have time to cringe at the change in his voice and his wording. He's shifted to the James Goodall persona because he's frightened out of his tree, but there's no time to reassure him so I keep moving as best I can with him at my back.

He's clutching at my arms then, clawing at me, trying to switch places.

"I'm trained for this," he's hissing behind me, "you aren't, you imbecile. Know your place!" he's shouting and thankfully he can't be overheard because everyone one within a hundred feet of us is shouting too.

"Hold your place," I tell Jasper via our linked headsets, "he's going to try to protect _us_, don't let him free." Jasper's reply is swift and short.

I see Tanya's strawberry blonde head a few places ahead of us in the slowly moving crowd. She's shouting, probably Edward's name, and trying to see over her shoulder but she's being shoved forward.

I'd warned her a hundred times to get a man of her own for just such an eventuality but she wouldn't listen. Now she is paying the price as she is swept along in the sea of bodies unaided.

The bodies directly in front of me stop so I shove. I see that it's the producer and he's got the director ahead of him so I shove again, propelling them both forwards and giving me a little more room to manoeuvre.

"Keep moving or we'll all be crushed," I hiss at the producers back as he balks.

The roar behind us was growing louder with each passing moment. Pack mentality would make sure that the carpet behind us was flooded with fans who all saw a chance to get up close and very personal with their favourite stars.

The way ahead was blocked with those who'd been ahead of us, the way behind by those trying to get ahead of us.

We've got seconds to get Edward to safety inside the theatre but it's not going to be easy. There's no clear path and the pair of double doors, that are the only entry point into the building, are already crammed with desperate people all trying to get inside.

"_They're jumping the barriers ahead_," I hear in my earpiece and crane my neck to see just that over the heads of those in front of us.

"Go left," I tell Jasper through our link. "Jared, find me a path and an exit," I bark into the headset. Ed is still at my back and I can feel him breathing heavily. Jasper's right behind him, probably pressing against him hard, staving off any attempt to push or pull him from the now frenzied crowd around us.

"Let me lead, goddammit man, you aren't trained," Ed's still screaming behind me.

"_Bottleneck at the theatre doors. Keep going left. No, further left,"_ comes Jared's instruction directly into my ear, as well as Jasper's, so there's no need to repeat it. "_Ten feet, door,"_ Jared tells me economically.

I count my paces, still shoving the director along in front of me, until I reach ten. The door is there but it's locked. I let the director go on ahead, following the crowd in front mindlessly, and once he's clear I turn and put one hand to Ed's chest, effectively stopping him and anyone else behind him. I turn to face the door and am about to put my boot to the lock when Ed reaches for my weapon!

"I'll shoot out the lock, stand back!" he shouts, clutching at my belt.

I put my hand back to his chest and shove him, hard, so that he's hard up against Jasper who snakes his arms around his chest and holds him tight.

It doesn't take much to kick in the lock and then I'm dragging them both through the door, slamming it shut once they were both inside.

"Direction," I bark into the headset for Jared. _"Bookshop. Exit at rear on the left,"_ comes the instruction. I go ahead and feel Jasper shoving Ed up against my back again as we move together through the store. It's closed for the night and there's only a feint glow from a security light above the counter but I do alright. "Car one move to position one. Car two change position. Two hundred feet east towards car one's position. We'll be coming out of an unlit door. Car three position ready," I say into my headset and hear all three confirmations loud and clear. "_Jared, plot us a course away."_

"Call for the helicopter, you moron," Ed hisses behind me but I ignore it.

I find the exit door and shove its one way handle down hard, pushing on it at the same time. I step out, my arm behind me to make the other two stop while I make sure the cars are safely in position. They are.

"Switch," I tell Jasper who steps out from behind our mark and in front of me. The backdoor of the Mercedes swings open and Jasper is in it and whistling for the go ahead a second later. "In you go," I tell Ed, holding the back of his head and forcing him to duck into the backseat ahead of me. "Drive," I shout at Brady but I needn't have. He's already got his foot to the floor before I've fully closed the door behind us. "Keep your head down," I tell Edward, putting my hand to the back of his neck and guiding him downwards so that his chin is resting on his knees.

"_Go right," _I hear in my earpiece and know that it's Jared guiding Brady home. I keep the earpiece in but ignore the steady stream of directions.

Edward pops up as we make the right turn, his eyes blazing as he stares at me. "I'm reporting you for this," he sneers. "I am the senior officer here and you should've heeded my instructions."

**Anon POV**

_It had gone better than expected. Easier too. _

_I'd picked my targets wisely I thought to myself as I watch the carnage unfold all from my one, simple, little push from the back of the crowd. _

_They were morons, all of them, both behind and in front of the barriers. _

_Pack mentality ruled supreme when it came to events like this one and the group of intoxicated, simple minded morons I'd chosen to stand behind had done exactly what I'd predicted they'd do. _

_The whisper of 'get to the top of the red carpet and we'll see him again' had spread like wildfire through the group and then wider, out into the other groups all mindlessly standing side by side for the chance to see their beloved stars up close. _

_The whisper had turned to a roar by the time I pushed, ever so lightly, into the back of one of the zombie like fans in front of me. _

_From there it spread on its own. _

_One push and as that fool stumbled forwards into the next fool and so on a wave of pushing and shoving toppled the barrier in front as if it were made of plastic, not metal. _

_I watched them, like lemmings at the edge of a cliff, as one by one those up against the still standing barriers pushed too, desperate not to miss out on the chance to get up close and personal with the objects of their fascination. _

_As they surged forwards I casually stepped back and watched it all unfold. _

**EPOV**

Emmett stared at me a second too long.

He should've given over control of the situation to his better trained, more senior operative, and he knew it.

He should've accepted my assessment of the situation and he knew that too.

I was about to warn him not to argue when he licked his bottom lip, sneered at me and then had the temerity to grab me by the jacket front.

"Listen to me you little bastard," he hissed right into my face. "I just saved your fucking life, despite all your attempts to prevent me doing it, so you keep your goddammned fucking mouth shut and your head down until we get to the house. We clear?" he snarls.

**BPOV**

"They're in the car safe and sound," Seth tells me on a deep exhale as he ends the call with his sister.

"Thank god," I reply and turn back to the television screen showing the aftermath of the incident. "So many people injured," I whisper as he comes to stand by me in the living room of Edward's home.

"Thankfully only minor injuries," Emily says as she too ends a call on her cell phone. "Edward's not physically hurt though he's not in great shape mentally," she tells me kindly as she too comes to stand in front of the television.

"And the boys?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the screen.

"Both fine. They're all fine. The whole team," she assures me.

"How long?" I ask, not caring which one answers.

"Ten minutes," Emily says, putting her hand on my shoulder, making me flinch. "Easy," she says softly. "You're aware of his, um, problems?" she asks carefully and I nod, not wanting to turn and show her the tears in my eyes. "Then you'll know that when he gets here he may not be himself."

I nod again but say nothing. I just keep watching the television screen. Watching the overhead shot of paramedics treating the injured. Watching the bright blue flashing lights of the police cars.

The quiet alarm a few minutes later startles me.

"It's just the gate, they're here," Seth says from somewhere behind me.

I hear his shoes on the tiles, moving out of the room, but I stay put. I hear the feint sounds of car doors slamming and then the front door slamming too before there's a whole heap of footsteps on those same tiles. I swipe at my eyes and prepare myself to be strong so I can help Edward.

"Well hello there, lassie," I hear in a thick, Scottish accent as I turn. "I'm sorry to have doubted you, my man," Edward tells Emmett with a grin before turning back to me. "It seems they now do home delivery," he says to me, eyebrow quirked.

"Hello Rupert," I sigh.

"Och, the wee lass remembered my name. This one's for me, lads," he chuckles, elbowing both Jasper and Emmett at his sides. "You two can fight over the other one, but she's all mine."

Emily snorts and leaves the room. Seth comes to stand at my side and both Emmett and Jasper mouth 'sorry' to me as Edward, who thinks he's Rupert Sizemore, comes towards me.

"Come and have a wee dram of Whiskey with me, lassie," he says, holding his hand out for me.

I stare at it, and then back up at Emmett who is shaking his head vigorously, before declining the offer. "It's getting late," I hedge, stepping away a little, "and we all have to go to work in the morning so it might be a better idea to just get some sleep."

Emmett's now nodding so I figure I've done and said the right things even though I'm flying blind.

"All work and no play makes me horny," Edward/Rupert chuckles, making my skin crawl, "but I can see you've made up your mind. I'll be turning in then, if you're sure?" he asks.

"I'm sure," I say firmly.

"A shame. Another time then," he says with a slight bow. "Emmett, show the lady to the door and then turn down my bed."

"Of course," Emmett says flatly, making a slight bowing motion himself. He nods in the direction of the front door and I scoot passed the three of them as quickly as I can.

I go out the door but wait on the stairs for Seth, who has my car keys.

I'm only out there for a few seconds when Emmett comes for me. Takes one look at me and folds me into a tight hug, rubbing my back hard as I sob against his chest.

"He's gone to his room," he whispers into my hair. "He's fine. He's truly fine," he tells me.

"I was so scared," I admit through my tears.

"I know, sweetheart, I know you were. But we got him away and he's going to be alright. He's switched to Rupert because he can't handle the pressure of being so frightened himself, that's all."

I nod against his chest but say nothing. I can't.

"Jasper's making up two guest rooms and you and Seth will stay here tonight," he tells me, rather than offers, so I nod again into his chest, too tired to argue. "Coming down from, or snapping out of being Rupert isn't pretty," he tells me. "But it isn't something you should worry about or be frightened of."

I push away a little but he leaves his hands on my shoulders. "What do you mean?" I ask carefully.

"It makes him sick," he sighs. "His mind and body get overloaded and it makes him sick. I'll have to sit with him tonight but I promise, come morning, he'll be himself again."

"He's going to spend the night sick?" I ask before swiping at my eyes and the freshly formed tears that are threatening to spill over at this new piece of information.

"Unfortunately, yes, he is," he tells me matter of factly.

"Was he sick through the night after coming to the restaurant?" I ask.

"Yeah," he sighs as he rubs at his jaw.

"I want to sit with him then," I say firmly. He's about to protest but I stop him with as fierce a stare as I can muster. "I want to sit with him," I say again.

He thinks on it a moment and then nods, just once. "Okay. But you were warned," he says. "We'll give him a little while to calm down a bit on his own and then I'll take you to him. In the meantime, let's have a drink," he says, slinging his arm around my shoulders and leading me back inside.

"Not whiskey," I shudder.

"No, definitely not whiskey," he chuckles.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


	10. Chapter 10

**EPOV**

The room smells awful. I smell awful. I feel awful.

"Shhh," someone coos above me.

There are fingers stroking my hair and I'm warm. No. I'm hot. But I'm shivering too and nothing makes any sense.

"Just sleep," says the soft voice just by my right ear.

I'm lying on my side, that much I can tell.

I want to keep my eyes closed but I want to know where I am and who I'm with too. I crack just one lid open, hiss at the pain of the light that seeps in and then feel my stomach lurch angrily.

"Its okay, it's okay," the voice chants as I throw up and up and up.

How it can be okay that the contents of my stomach is evacuating violently I don't know, or understand, but I can't control it either.

The smell makes me retch harder.

The taste makes my eyes water and my throat burn.

"Shhh, it's okay," I hear again above me.

"Not," I manage to croak.

"It is," the voice assures me. "I'm here. You aren't alone. It'll be okay."

Something cool and wet wipes my face and I hope that I'm the one lying in my own filth and not whoever belongs to that voice.

I shift, as little as possible, until my fingers find the hard surface beneath me. It's cold, hard and smooth. Tile. I'm on the floor but I'm not alone.

I shift my fingers back towards myself and feel the fabric under my head. It's wet. Something's been stuffed under me. Probably for comfort but I've soiled it.

My clothing feels constricting though I have no idea what I'm wearing or where I am other than I'm clothed and I'm on a tiled floor.

"Where?" I manage to get out.

"You're in your bathroom and I'm here," the voice says gently above me.

I'm at home and that's good. Nobody can see me like this. _Someone_ is seeing me like this, but nobody else can.

"Who?" I ask as best I can.

"Bella," says the voice.

I know Bella. She's my friend. Like Emmett. She helps me. She's nice to me.

"I'm sorry," I whimper as I attempt to roll a little.

"Stay put," she tells me softly, a hand on my shoulder to keep me in place. "Just stay put until your stomach settles. And there's no need to be sorry."

"Am," I mumble.

"Okay, you be sorry then, but I don't need your apology," she whispers.

I hear a ripping noise quite close but don't open my eyes. I don't want to be sick in front of Bella again so I keep them closed. Another ripping noise comes close on the heels of the last and then a scratching sound by my head.

I can smell disinfectant and figure she's cleaning up my vomit with paper towels.

"Sorry," I mumble as best I can.

"Shhh," she coos and pats my hair.

I hear her moving and then the sound of her bare feet on the tiles and I panic. "Don't leave," I beg through gritted teeth as I brave opening just the one eyelid again.

It's a bad, bad idea because as soon as the light seeps in I'm retching again.

There's nothing left to come out but the retching continues anyway. My jaw and stomach ache, the muscles bunching and twitching with each convulsion.

"Shhh," she soothes, wiping my face with the wet fabric again. "I wasn't leaving. I was going to take the soiled paper towel out of the room. That's all. I won't leave you alone, I promise."

I hear her footsteps again and even though she's promised not to leave me alone the silence in the small room stretches out interminably. I've no way to know how long she's gone but when she comes back she sits beside me again and her fingers go back into my hair.

"Filthy," I moan, trying to shy away from her touch, knowing I smell bad and probably look worse.

"Let me," she whispers despite that. Her fingers comb through my hair and I can't help but sigh in pleasure as they do.

"Time?" I rasp through a scratchy throat.

Her fingers cease for a moment, probably to look at her watch, "Just after midnight," she whispers.

"Day?"

"Sunday," comes the soft reply.

"What happened?" I ask, though I'm not entirely sure I want to know.

"Shhh," she croons, rubbing my scalp a little harder as she does. "We'll talk about that in the morning. Just rest for now."

"Water," I manage to mumble.

"Try moving a little first. If you aren't sick I'll get you some water."

Her fingers retract from my hair and she puts her hand on my shoulder, helping me to roll a little further onto my back. I keep my eyes closed but relish the feel of the cool marble tiles across my shoulders and back.

She takes my hand into hers, rubbing hard in the soft, fleshy spot between my thumb and index finger. "Breathe slowly," she instructs. "That's it," she praises gently as I slow my breathing to match hers. "I'll turn the lights completely off and when you're ready you try and open your eyes."

She releases my hand and I hear the telltale sound of the switch by the wall being flicked off. She's back at my side, my hand in hers, in seconds.

I crack the same eyelid I'd tried before and although the action itself hurts my stomach doesn't lurch with the intrusion of light. There isn't much in the room, though there is a little bit coming through the door from the bedroom.

"That's good," she says softly and I turn my head a little so that I can see her lovely face. "Hi there," she smiles.

"Hi," I manage to mumble.

"I'll run and grab some bottled water, I'll be right back," she tells me, getting to her feet.

**BPOV**

I rush through the house winding my way through the maze of hallways to get back to the kitchen. I pull two bottles of water out of the fridge and grab another roll of paper towel from the pantry.

"Is he still throwing up?"

"Jesus!" I shout, jumping back and fumbling for the light switch by the pantry door. "You scared me half to death, Em," I hiss as the light comes on and I can see the body that the voice belongs to.

"Sorry," he mumbles, scrubbing at his jaw with his fist in a bit of a daze. "I heard you come out of his room and thought I'd check how he's doing?"

"He's still on the floor in the bathroom but he's got his eyes open now," I tell him, hoping that was good news but not knowing for myself.

"Keep the lights dimmed," he suggests, "and get him to drink as much of that water as you can, that'll help with tomorrow's shakes and headache."

"I will," I reply quietly.

"I can go and get him into his bed if you want? It's late and you have to work tomorrow," he shrugs.

"I'm good, Em, thanks," I tell him as I move through the kitchen.

He reaches out and tugs on my arm as I go by him. "He doesn't sleep well at the best of times," he says, making it sound like a warning. "He'll thrash and mumble and probably cry half the night. Be prepared for that."

"I'm good, Em," I say again, just as firmly as I had the first time. "I can handle it. Go back to bed."

He nods just once and turns back towards the hall. I follow behind him and wish him a good sleep when we part ways.

Edward's still where I left him, on his back on the bathroom floor, but his colour is a little better from what I can see in the little bit of light there is.

"Do you think you can hop into bed?" I ask as I set the water and the paper towel on the sink counter.

"Maybe," he whispers, sounding a little more like himself.

It takes twenty minutes but he does get up, with as much physical help as I can offer.

He leans his weight against the counter, breathing hard, while I run back into his bedroom and pull back the covers on his bed. I put myself under his arm and hold as much of his weight as I can as we slowly, slowly stumble out of the bathroom.

"Which side?" I ask as we near the bed.

"Don't care," he mumbles back so I choose the closest one and steer us that way.

"Sit and I'll help you get out of your clothes," I tell him, my heart thumping wildly in my chest from the exertion of helping him and the idea of undressing Edward Cullen.

He doesn't protest, he just plops himself down on the mattress, his arms going limp at his sides.

I undo his belt and pull it free of his suit pants and then tug off his socks. He undoes the button and zip on the pants for himself and then scoots backwards a little while I tug on the hems at his feet.

I try not to look at his bare legs, or the black boxer briefs he's wearing, but there's nowhere else to look.

I can feel the heat of my blush creeping up my collarbones but steel myself to finish the job I'd started.

I take each of his wrists in turn and undo his cufflinks, dropping them one at a time onto his bedside cabinet, before undoing the buttons that run down his chest.

I'd seen more of him before when we'd been swimming but this felt different. Not least because it had been five years since I'd last seen his body and he'd filled out and had grown up in that time.

I'd grown up too, since he'd last seen me in a bathing suit.

That too made me blush.

I removed his shirt quickly and threw it on the floor with his suit pants.

"Water first," I tell him as he begins to lie down. I uncap a bottle and hand it to him, cringing a little as I watch his hand shake as he took it to his lips. "Slowly," I warn him, not wanting to upset his stomach and start his retching again. "More?" I ask once he's drained the first bottle.

"No, thank you," he mumbles and slumps back against the pillows.

"I'll be right back," I tell him as I gather up his clothes and rush to the laundry room to set them to soak. I take a few clean washcloths from the linen cupboard there and then rush back to his bedroom.

I pull the covers up over his shivering body and tuck them around his collarbones. I smooth back his hair and then dash into the bathroom to wet one of the cloths. I wring it nearly dry and then I wipe over his face and throat with it, earning a moan for my troubles.

He is shivering but still sweating so I hope it helps ease him just a little bit.

He catches my wrist in his fingers as I raise the cloth to make another pass. "Lie down," he whispers, eyes still closed.

"Jasper's made up a bed for me in a guest room," I tell him softly as I work my wrist free of his fingers and pat the top of his hand.

"Lie down," he whispers again, patting behind himself. "Please. Don't leave me alone."

"For a little while," I agree, "just until you're asleep."

I move to the other side of the bed and slide across so that I'm behind him, above the covers.

"Hand," he says so quietly I have to strain to make out the word. I put my hand on where I think his hip is under the blankets and he puts his on top of mine. "Thank you," he mumbles.

"You're welcome," I sigh as I slide down a little and settle onto the pillows.

I watch the bedside clock tick over, its red glowing numbers the only light in the room.

He starts thrashing at one eighteen.

The crying starts at two eleven.

The pleading for help begins not long after.

**Emmett POV**

"Open the gate," I tell Jasper as I get to my feet. "You stay out of sight while she's here," I remind him as we watch Tanya edge her car into the driveway. "She'll have seen you last night on the red carpet but hopefully she'll assume you're a part of Sam's crew, not mine directly. You'll find contact details for Caius Vasilii on the laptop. Call him and tell him he should go to Tanya's office _now_, he'll understand why. Tell him he's got an hour tops. Call Alice; tell her I need Tanya's cell phone disabled immediately. I'll take the bitch to the library. Give me ten full minutes and then send Seth in. If they wake up," I say pointing in the direction of the hall leading to Edward's bedroom where he and Bella both still slept, "keep them away from the library. Lie if you have to, just don't let them see her or be seen by her."

"Done," he tells me simply, already reaching for my laptop to find Caius' details.

I take a deep breath before opening the front door to one very pissed off agent. "Tanya," I say with as much courtesy as I can muster knowing what I know about her.

"Emmett," she hisses as she comes inside.

"Your client is still sleeping so we'll take this meeting in the library," I tell her and begin walking down the hall. I hear her huff behind me but she does follow.

I step aside after opening the door and offer her her choice of seat once we're both inside.

The instant her ass is seated on the edge of one of the armchairs she reaches into her cavernous bag and pulls out a sheaf of papers. "I need his signature on these today," she says with a wan smile. "There was a problem at the bank this morning so he'll need to sign them as soon as possible," she says, handing me the papers.

I don't need to read them to know what's gone on. At the opening of business this morning she presented the authorisation Ed had signed last week and the bank refused to hand over a check.

"That won't be happening," I tell her matter of factly as I tuck the papers down the side of my seat. "Anything else?" I ask casually.

"You don't have the authority to decide what he does and does not sign," she hisses.

"Maybe so, but your client has removed your authority to access his bank accounts so he won't be needing to sign these, will he? Now, is there anything else?"

She doesn't bother to hide her shock. "I want to speak to him," she demands.

"He's sleeping," I tell her with a shake of my head.

"He's my client. I have a right to speak to him," she counters.

"He's your employer and he has the right to sleep when he pleases," I say simply. "Move on," I tell her firmly.

She's been cornered and we both know it. She settles a grim smile on her blood red lips and delves into her bag again, bringing another set of papers to the surface. She doesn't hand these over, instead she skims them and then raises her eyes.

"I've added three extra Q and A's to this afternoon's schedule," she tells me with a smirk. "In light of the PR disaster last night he'll need to add a few more public appearances in the coming weeks to adequately cover the loss of publicity."

"That won't be happening either," I tell her evenly. "He's in no shape to do what's already on his promotional schedule, though he will fulfil those obligations, but he won't be doing extra."

"Again, you don't have the authority to make those decisions. I'll speak to him myself and he can tell me whether or not he's up to making adjustments to his schedule," she hisses.

"He's sleeping and he's going to stay asleep," I hiss right back. "He'll do the four interviews on his current schedule for this afternoon and no more. He'll do the two radio shows tomorrow morning and no more. You can schedule all you like, Tanya, but he'll only be doing what's already been agreed to."

"This is outrageous!" she screeches, leaping to her feet and putting her hands to her hips defiantly. "Who do you think you are? I hired you," she snarls, pointing a talon at me, "don't think I can't make it so that you never work in this industry again!"

I stay seated knowing she'd expect me to lose my temper and rise to her bait. "Ed pays my salary as you well know," I grin up at her now flushed face. "And he's rather happy with how I run things around here so I doubt anything you could say would alter my employment status."

"You can't block me from my client!" she screeches.

"I wouldn't bother wasting the effort, he doesn't want to see you so I don't have to block you," I chuckle.

"I'll sue for alienation," she hisses.

"Go your hardest," I snigger as I get to my feet, taking the stack of papers I'd shoved down the side of the chair with me. "Now, is there anything else I can do for you today?"

She doesn't get a chance to answer because right on time Seth knocks on the door and strolls casually into the room. "You wanted to see me, boss?" he asks casually as you like.

"Would you put these into the safe for me with the others and then call Miss Denali a taxi please, she's leaving," I tell him, handing him the papers.

"Sure thing, boss," he says with a nod and then quickly leaves the room.

"I have my car," Tanya hisses, reaching into her bag once again and coming up with a ring of keys, as I'd hoped she would.

I say nothing but I do move towards the door, holding it open for her to pass in front of me. I walk behind her through the living room and the hall and when we get to the foyer I step around her and open the front door.

She huffs indignantly as she goes by me out onto the front steps. I follow, close at her heels. As she steps down off them and onto the gravel I reach around and pluck the key ring easily from her fingers.

"You won't be needing this," I smirk as I slip the electronic key for the Mercedes she'd arrived in off its ring.

"You can't do that!" she screeches, clutching at the remaining keys in my hand.

It's a simple thing for me to slip the car key into my jeans pocket and then lift the rest of the ring over my head, out of her reach. She bats at my arms and at my chest. "Step back," I bark at her, startling her into doing so immediately. "That is not your vehicle," I snarl, nodding towards the dark blue car. "It's Edward's. He paid for it, it's his name on the registration and he pays the insurance. Therefore it stays here, at his home. I won't bother taking your key to this house off this ring because the locks will be changed later this morning anyway," I tell her as I hold out the ring.

She snatches it up, her face flushed with anger. "You'll pay for this you bastard," she hisses.

"I'll give you the details of my accountant, submit an invoice," I chuckle. "Edward has decided to exercise his right to terminate your contract, Miss Denali. His lawyer is already at your office retrieving the other items you have in your possession that Ed's paid for and continues to pay for. Expect a court order for the things in your home in the next week or so.

"Now, if you'll follow me I'll walk you to the street so you can wait for your taxi."

She glares up at me, barely concealing her anger. "He signed every god dammed thing I put under his nose," she smirks. "There's nothing you can do about any of this without outing his little problem you know."

"And if you were any sort of decent human being you'd tell me what you know about the day Charlie Swan died so I can help the poor fucker recover from it. But you aren't, so you won't, and I'm tired of asking," I tell her as I clutch her elbow in my fingers and tug on it until she starts reluctantly walking with me to the front gates. "I'll give you twenty four hours Tanya," I tell her matter of factly. "Twenty four hours to tell me what you know before I start _really_ digging. If you're hiding something, or are caught up in whatever went on that day I'll find out and I'll fucking bury you," I snarl.

I punch in the numerical code to manually open the gate and after shoving it with my hip to get it open enough for her to pass through I point at it and nod my head towards the street.

She slips through and I slam it shut again.

A taxi pulls up to the curb and as she marches down the drive towards the road and the waiting taxi I call out to her and remind her that she has twenty four hours.

She stops mid stride, turns her head over her shoulder and sneers at me, "I cleaned it up, I didn't do it myself. Dig all you want, you won't find anything else."

**EPOV**

"Mmm," she moans lowly.

"More," I gasp as I push my hips forward, grinding myself into her.

"Mmm," she moans again as she pushes her hips back, meeting my erection deliciously with the soft, round orbs of her ass.

I squeeze the breast in my hand a little more, pulling her up against my chest and earn a ragged gasp from her as I did so.

"So soft," I rasp into the ear by my lips as I flex my fingers around the flesh in my hand.

"So hard," she moans, jerking her hips forward and then back against me. "More," she pleads.

She..._she_...oh god!

I leap away as though I've been burned. "Fuck!" I bellow as I fall off the edge of the bed, hitting my shoulder on the cabinet beside it as I scramble for balance before finally giving up and landing on my ass on the floor beside the bed. I leap back to my feet and stare at the woman sprawled on top of the covers of my bed. "Bella!" I shout, noticing she's not fully awake and therefore probably not aware of the fact that I've just had my hand on her...oh god!

My shout is enough to waken her fully and then she's on her feet too, though she managed it rather more gracefully than I had.

"Edward?" she's asking, her eyes pleading with me for something I don't understand.

"I was asleep, I didn't mean to," I plead, holding my hands out in front of myself in a gesture of...well a gesture of something. Unfortunately it doesn't help, it only makes her look downwards to where my hands are and of course she notices the state of the front of my boxers. I watch in horror as her eyes go wide. "Shit," I mutter and turn my back on her hastily. "Um, yeah, I mean...um. Shit," I hiss, rubbing a hand through my hair, trying in vain to make the pounding in my head subside.

I bolt through the open door to my bathroom and only just hold myself back enough not to slam the door shut behind me. I do thunk my forehead onto it though as soon as it's closed.

"I'm sorry," I hear on the other side of the door quickly followed by the unmistakable sound of a sob.

"Jesus Christ," I hiss as my headache ramps up another notch. I pull the door open to find her sitting on the edge of my bed with her head in her hands, crying steadily. "Don't cry," I murmur as softly as I can as I go to her. I sink to my knees in front of her, erection be dammed, and tug on her wrists until I can see her red rimmed, tear filled eyes. "Please don't cry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I was asleep. Or not quite fully awake. I'm so sorry I touched you without permission."

She chokes on another sob and I wince at the sound. "I was asleep too," she mumbles.

"Why were you in my bed?" I ask as quietly as I can so my head doesn't pound harder from the combination of sound and light.

"You were sick last night. You asked me to stay, not to leave you alone. I laid down on top of the covers. I was going to leave once you were asleep but you were upset and there was never a good time to go. I didn't mean to fall asleep, I promise," she sobs.

"It's alright," I tell her, wiping under one of her eyes with my thumb. "It's okay. If I asked you stay then its okay."

"You did," she says with a firm nod of her head.

"I don't doubt you," I tell her honestly, "I just don't remember asking," I sigh. My muscles are aching and my whole body feels tense and sore so I get up off my knees and sit beside her on the bed, pulling her hand into my lap.

"I liked it," she whispers as she rubs at her eyes with her free hand, her sobbing having eased.

"I did too," I admit just as quietly. "But I feel awful. Not because of what I did, now that I know you liked it it's not because of that," I assure her carefully, "but I really do feel awful. Sore actually. I ache all over. What the hell happened last night?"

"You had the red carpet thing, remember?"

"Sort of," I tell her quietly. "I remember talking to you before we left and I remember facing the press at the wall, after that it's pretty much a blank. God," I sigh, using my free hand at rub at my hair. "Did I take something? I remember telling my dresser that the sweets in my pocket weren't crack, but maybe they were," I sigh.

"The crowd went crazy," she whispers, rubbing with both her hands between my thumb and finger, just the way I like it. "You didn't take anything and you weren't high. It was the crowd. They pushed down the barriers and flooded the carpet. Emmett and Jasper had a hell of a time getting you out of there in one piece."

"I don't remember that. Shit. Tanya must be going nuts," I moan.

"Probably," she agrees, still rubbing my hand. "You weren't exactly yourself when they brought you home and Emmett told me you usually got sick at times like that so I stayed with you."

"You weren't here when we left though, were you? I remember you saying you were staying at home to watch it in front of the TV with your dinner."

"I did. I did stay home to watch it. But when Seth saw what was happening he brought me here with him."

"I'm glad he did," I tell her honestly. "I was sick?" I ask.

"Yeah," she sighs. "And now you have a headache again."

"Yeah," I sigh right back, closing my eyes against the little bit of light coming in through the curtains.

"Go and shower and get dressed and I'll make you something to eat. Then I'll help you get rid of it," she says matter of factly.

"You don't have to do that," I tell her, though I'm more than grateful for the offer she's made. I find myself not wanting her to leave. "Shit, what time is it? For that matter what day is it?" I ask, leaping to my feet once again.

"It's Monday and its," she trails off as she looks down at her watch, "ten twenty three in the morning."

"Holy shit," I hiss, "Emmett's gonna kill me," I shout as I rush towards the bathroom. "I've got magazine interviews this afternoon and you're already late for work aren't you?" I call out as I turn on the taps to my shower.

"I'm the boss, I can be late," she calls out from the bedroom. "Emmett would've come for you if he needed you so take your time. I'll go and find him and see what's what."

"Thank you," I call out as I step under the boiling hot spray.

**Emmett POV**

I'm boiling with rage when I get back to the office.

"Caius called. He said he's got everything from her office and he's lodged the papers to get everything else from her home," Jasper tells me as he hands me the handwritten message. "Alice disabled her cell phone seconds after I asked her to so unless she stops somewhere on her way back to her building she can't call anyone to hide anything. Seth left the papers you handed him there," he says, pointing to the papers on the desk. "He said you wanted them in the safe but he didn't know the combination."

"I know," I sigh before taking a deep, deep calming breath. "I just wanted the viper to think he did. A show of strength if you will."

"Will she retaliate?" he asks.

"With what?"

"She got anything on him, or you?"

"I've not done anything," I shrug. "As for Ed, we'll have to wait and see. I can't think of a way she'd try but then I don't think like a callous, underhanded piece of shit either."

"Something tells me she's not fond of you either," he chuckles.

I shrug that off. I don't care what she thinks of me personally. "Any movement down that end of the house?" I ask, nodding over my shoulder towards the hall where Ed's bedroom is.

"Bella's on her way this way," he says, turning the monitor for that hall so I can see it.

"On with our day then. We're leaving for the hotel at one. Move that car around to the garage will you?" I tell him, throwing Tanya's key towards him.

He catches it easily in one hand. "The locksmith will be here in an hour," he tells me as he gets to his feet.

"Keep working on that list of Tanya's employees," I remind him as we both exit the office. "Good morning," I say to a dishevelled looking Bella who's coming up the hall towards us.

"Morning," Jasper calls as he heads towards the front door to move the car.

"Morning guys," she mumbles as she goes into the kitchen. "Is it too late for me to make him some breakfast?"

"Go for it," I tell her with a wave of my hand. "We don't have to leave until one so he's got plenty of time. Aren't you supposed to be at work by now yourself?" I ask as I get up onto one of the stools under the kitchen counter.

"I can be late," she shrugs as she fills the kettle.

"Did either of you sleep?"

"Not much," she sighs as she opens the fridge and starts laying out a package of bacon and a carton of eggs onto the countertop. "Where will I find the bread?"

"In the pantry," I tell her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she calls from the depths of the huge cupboard. "He's got a headache but I think he's okay too. He's coherent at least," she tells me as she comes back in, arms laden with jams and spreads and cans.

"Does he remember anything?"

"Just up to the press wall, after that it's pretty much gone."

"So nothing different then," I sigh.

"Did you expect it to be different?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

"Maybe," I shrug. "I've never had him come round with someone on hand who knew him before. I thought it might change something."

"Well, he's himself this morning but I don't know if he always is the morning after," she says as she searches through the drawers under the range.

"Frypans are in the second on the left. And he does mostly wake up the next morning as himself though he's hardly what you could call with it."

"Well he knew where he was and when I told him it was Monday morning he remembered he had interviews to do this afternoon."

"That's a good start," I admit. "Did he say anything of note in his sleep?" I ask cautiously.

She cracks an egg into a mixing bowl and then digs out a whisk from another drawer. "He mumbled some stuff about there being so much blood," she whispers. "But he told me about that the other day so that wasn't new."

"He's talked to you about his dreams?" I ask, my interest piqued.

She tilts her head to the side a second and then nods just once. "He has. He says he can smell and see blood and that he wakes up frightened a lot. He says it lasts for hours and sometimes for days afterwards."

"Jesus," I sigh.

"It doesn't make any sense to me. He wasn't there when it happened so I don't know what the blood thing is about," she says.

I have my doubts about him not being there but until I know for sure I keep that close to my chest. "He knows your dad was shot so maybe it's his imagination showing him how he thinks it looked. Things are speeding up."

"You think he's getting worse," she sighs as she tips a can of baked beans into a pan.

"I hope he's beginning to remember things. But it's just a hope right now. But I do know he's getting more upset more often," I say instead of outright admitting he's getting worse. I couldn't face that for myself and I didn't want to burden her with it.

"You're worried it's going to get out of control for him," she correctly deduces. Seth was right, she's a quick study.

"I'm worried that I'm not going to be able to help him deal with the fallout," I admit.

"He knows and understands that you're here for him," she says kindly as she tips the egg mixture into the pan. "The way he put it was that he's okay knowing you're keeping him safe from outside things but he isn't sure he can be kept safe from himself."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"I'm not a shrink," she shrugs as she stirs the eggs. "But to me it sounds like he feels as though he's imploding. He hears names in his head and I think it might be my dad's name, maybe others, and he doesn't know what it means. I think he's getting worse even though I don't know what he's been like these past years."

"He is getting worse," I'm forced to admit solemnly.

"He's constantly confused because he's missing pieces of his memory on a daily basis. I assume that's because he slips in and out of these other personalities?" she asks as she pushes two pieces of bread down into the toaster.

"He doesn't remember anything of what he does when he's someone else," I agree. "He wakes up as himself but can't work out why he's injured, or sore, or aching."

"He said as much to me," she admits.

"I've thought about having Rose explain it to him. Getting her to tell him about his other personas, but neither of us know if it will help or make things worse."

"You told me once that we might have to hurt him to help him," she says, pointing a spatula at me.

"And if he can't handle remembering?" I ask carefully, wincing at the thought.

"I don't know the answer to any of that," she sighs as she turns over the strips of bacon in another pan. "I'm just trying to do my best to help him, just like you."

We're both silent for a few minutes and luckily so because Edward comes around the corner from the hall just as I'm about to suggest she tries talking to him about Charlie again.

I watch, fascinated, as he goes directly into the kitchen to Bella. He drops a kiss on her hair and whispers something to her, making her blush.

She'd told me that he was himself but this was another new version of himself. He looked wrecked, that wasn't new, but he looked confident and that was. Even a week ago he'd have come out of his room timidly, worried and nervous after a night like he'd had. But this morning he looked in control.

He comes around my side of the counter, mumbles a good morning to me and then holds out his hand. "Thanks for last night," he tells me.

I shake his hand eagerly. "No problem," I tell him.

"How many injured?" he asks after accepting coffee from Bella. "Thank you for this," he says to her.

"Twenty nine," I say sadly. "Thankfully none of them too badly. Some cuts and scrapes and one broken wrist."

"I want to release a statement," he says firmly. "I want to tell everyone how sorry I am they got hurt. I want to pay the medical bills for all of the ones who did and I want to give everyone else who was there free tickets to see the film."

"I'll call Aro," I tell him simply.

He's quiet for a moment, staring into his coffee mug. "I'll sign with him as soon as a contract can be drafted. I don't want to deal with Tanya ever again. Is that okay?" he asks hesitantly.

"Totally your decision," I tell him honestly even though I've had a large hand in making the decision come about. "I'll inform her you're ending her contract immediately."

"I don't want her here. She can't come here again," he says quite firmly.

"Done," I tell him simply.

"I want Bella to have a set of keys for here," he says matter of factly. "And a gate code. And she's allowed to be here when I'm not, anytime she wants. Nothing here is off limits to her. Including the use of my cars. And she can go in my bedroom if she wants. Tell the others."

"I don't need to..." she starts but Ed cuts her off.

"Until Emmett knows for sure who's calling you and watching you it makes sense that you have somewhere to run to if you get frightened. This is a safe place for me and I need to know that you have one too. It's safe here. The whole place is wired. There're cameras everywhere and nobody can get in here. If you get a fright you come here, please," he says rather logically, and quite firmly.

She stares at him for just a moment and then nods. "Okay," is her soft reply.

"I'll make sure the others know," I say, doing my best to hide my grin from them both. "There's a locksmith coming in an hour so I'll get another set of keys made, simple."

"And car keys," he reminds me sternly, to which I nod. "And I want a cell phone," he says matter of factly after setting his cup down.

"You have one," I tell him with a frown.

"I know I do, but it's more like a tablet and it's too big to keep it on me. I don't want to have to hand it over all the time. I want a tiny one, if there is such a thing. One that Angela won't see when she dresses me for events. One that I can put in my breast pocket that won't show," he says so determinedly I can't help but stare at him. "What?" he asks, catching me staring. "Shit happens to me," he shrugs, "I want Bella to be able to call me if she needs me and I don't want to have to ask for the use of my own phone if I want to call her."

"Done," I say simply, impressed and relieved that he was showing signs of taking control of his situation. Finally. "I'll find a tiny, flat one."

"And I want to eat at Bella's restaurant after we're done at the hotel tonight," he says with a grin of his own.

I look to Bella. "Can I book a booth for three of us for tonight please Miss Manager Lady?" I chuckle.

"I think I can fit you in," she giggles back as she slides a plate in front of Ed. "If it's okay I'll go and shower while you eat? I'll have to get to work soon."

"Use my bathroom," Ed pipes up as he turns his plate around and around. "This is brilliant," he smiles up at her, "thank you for going to all this trouble for me."

Her smile is beaming. "My pleasure."

"There're clean towels in the cupboard by the door," he mumbles around his first mouthful of egg. "Jesus these are good," he whistles once he's swallowed.

"I put cream in the mixture," she beams again proudly.

"Next time you come over bring some clothes," he tells her simply.

"I don't know..." she begins but again he cuts her off.

"I got sick last night and you stayed with me. I'm to blame for you not getting enough sleep and being late to work today. You're going to be even later because Seth will have to take you home to get changed before you go to the restaurant. If you leave some things here, and I get sick again and you stay, you won't miss so much work and I won't feel so guilty," he argues.

It's cunning and manipulative and it's the most emotion he's showed in years. I'm so happy I could burst, but I say nothing. He's got this. And from the look on Bella's face she wants this, whatever is going on between them she wants it.

"Okay, I will then," she says with a smile.

"Good. I'll clear some space in my closet," he smiles right back.

I feel like I'm intruding even though she's only cooked him breakfast and he's only eating it. But it's as though there's an understanding between them now and I'm not included. I'm okay with that. I've wanted him happy for so long and with her he might just have a shot at it. They're smiling at one another and I might as well not even be there for all the attention they're paying me, so I get up.

"I'll be in the office," I tell them both. "We have to leave at one," I remind my mark but I doubt he's listening he's so busy shovelling food into his mouth. I pinch a piece of bacon as I go by. I'd had cereal.

**EPOV**

The day goes too fast. When Bella's around it seems to anyway.

I didn't want her to leave but I knew she had to get to work so I reluctantly see her out to her car and unfortunately Seth is already in it, with the engine running.

I didn't like him all of a sudden. He got too much of her time. He got to spend every day with her, and every night, which I didn't want to think about.

"So I'll see you at dinnertime?" she asks me as we walk towards the car.

"Yeah, I hope that's okay?" I ask, knowing I didn't ask her before I demanded Em take me there to eat.

"I like seeing you," she tells me quietly, reaching for my hand as we walk. She squeezes it just a little and as we come to the side of the car she stays my hand from opening the door for her. "Good luck for your interviews this afternoon," she says, smiling.

"Thank you," I tell her with a little return squeeze of her hand. "I'll get a few minutes in between each interview. Would it be okay if I called you? Or will you be too busy?"

"I'd like that," she grins. "I'll see you tonight."

I open the door for her and reluctantly let her hand go. I wish them both well and stand in the driveway to watch them go out the gates.

It had been a hell of a few days, and a big morning too, but I felt better than I had in...well, I felt better than I could ever remember.

When the gates close behind her vehicle I march back into the house and go straight to the office.

Both Emmett and Jasper are there and they both stop what they're doing and look up at me as I enter. I don't often go in there so I guess it was strange to see me there.

"What's up?" Emmett asks once I'm inside.

I take a deep breath. "Does Jasper know about me?" I ask.

Emmett looks to him and then back to me. "He knows what I know," he says with a nod.

"Okay," I sigh, letting out another held breath. "I want you to talk to Bella about coming to a session at Rosalie's with me. It's her dad that died and everyone seems to think I know what happened that day and what we're already doing isn't helping me remember it. Taking Bella with me, or maybe Rosalie talking to her about what she knows, might help me. What do you think?"

"I think it's worth a shot," Emmett agrees readily. "What do you think?" he asks Jasper.

"I agree with Em. Anything you haven't already tried is worth a shot."

"Will you talk to her about it then?" I ask Emmett but he is already shaking his head.

"No. I won't. You will," he says matter of factly. "She has a right to know what happened to her dad, I agree with you there. But, I wasn't there. I didn't know you then. I didn't know her then. And neither did Rosalie. But you did. I agree that Rosie talking to her to learn what she does know is a good idea, but the request needs to come from you. It's you who needs her help, not me."

"Alright," I concede. "I'll ask her then. But you ask Rose, she scares me," I chuckle.

"That I can do," he chuckles in reply. "She doesn't scare me," he laughs, raising and lowering his eyebrows suggestively.

"What she does to you is your business," I cringe.

"And what Bella does to you is yours," he says much more seriously than our jesting prior. "Nobody in your employ will gossip about it and if they do they won't work for you, or me, again," he tells me pointedly.

"If the press get wind..." I being but he holds up his hand for me to stop.

"_If_ the press get wind of whatever it is that's between you and Bella Swan I'll work closely with your new agent to maintain as much of your privacy as I can. But you can rest assured that the information will not come from this house, anyone working inside it, or any of Sam's crew. It's your business, and hers."

"Thank you," I tell him sincerely. "I like her. We're friends. For now that's all we are. But if that changes I want her protected from the press leeches."

"As much as it's possible to do I'll do it," he assures me. "We'll do it, won't we?" he amends, staring at Jasper.

"We will," he agrees. "And I should tell you that I'm seeing Alice. In the interests of full disclosure," he grins.

"I like Alice," I tell him. "And I already knew. If she's going to stay over again will you consider moving a few rooms down the hall away from my room?" I chuckle.

He had the good grace to blush and then he chuckled too, "If Bella's going to stay over that might be a good idea on both sides."

"No gossiping," Emmett scolded, but he was grinning. "Now, go and get changed and I'll call Rose and ask if she'll see both you and Bella this week."

Having been dismissed, and feeling pretty satisfied with the conversation, I go to my room and do as I am told.

**Emmett POV**

Everyone involved in these magazine interview formats hated them. The interviewer, the interviewee, the lighting and camera people, and most of all me.

This time around my mark had four separate interviews with four separate – and very different – magazine journalists. Two hotel rooms had been reserved for the duration and they were connected by an internal door.

Hotels were used so that the space used for the interview was neutral ground. Not the subjects personal space and not the journalists territory. It was supposed to put everyone involved at ease. It didn't do that, what it did was piss everyone involved off because of the austerity of the rooms.

While one room was being used for an interview the other would be prepared for the next. It made for a smooth transition but it also made my mark cranky.

Each session would last for half an hour with ten minutes in between each session for him to have a drink and a rest. The hotel was provided and paid for by the production company so there was no consultation with me regarding security. I just had to trust that the hotel itself had taken any and all steps to ensure that my mark would be able to go about his business in private, without the worry of the public getting wind of his stay.

I still had to coordinate the comings and goings in the spare room, check the credentials of the interviewer and the camera and lighting crews and make sure that the hallway outside was secure and safe while my mark was inside either one of the rooms.

The first journalist and his crew had already set up when we arrived so I left my mark in Jasper's capable hands while I vetted their press credentials and checked their recording equipment. When I was satisfied that it was all above board I called Ed in and they got right down to business while I went nextdoor to see to the next group.

"What's this?" I ask, holding the envelope with Ed's name printed on the front aloft after I'd checked their identification papers.

"It was here when we got here," the lighting guy tells me with a shrug.

"You didn't bring it in with you?" I ask as I slide my finger along the seal.

"Nope," the camera man tells me. "I saw it there when we came in too."

I pull the single typed page free and read it quickly, my gut clenching instantly.

I run to the door, pulling it shut behind me. "This was in the room _before_ this crew arrived," I tell Jasper, handing him the page and the envelope. I give him a second to read it and once he's done he asks what I need him to do. "Call Sam. Tell him we need a runner to get this to Alice. She'll know what I want. Tell him to send two of his crew to secure this floor. Two more to secure the house. The last two to secure the restaurant. I want either Sam or Jared to have eyes on Bella's house until further notice too. Then I want you to secure the parking garage and the car we came in. I want the garage swept, the car gone over with a fine tooth comb and I want the names of anyone who's been in these rooms over the past week. That includes cleaning crews, window washers, and room service attendants. Everyone. Go," I tell him as I take out my phone and dial.

"On it, boss," he shouts as he runs for the elevator down the hall.

"What's up, boss?" Seth asks by way of answering.

"There's been a direct, personal threat made to your mark and mine. She doesn't leave your sight. Ever. If she pees you're outside the door. If she coughs you note the time. If her phone rings you note the time, the caller's name and the return number," I bark.

"Done," is his answer.

"Sam will be sending two bodies to the restaurant and he and Jared will swap out to keep eyes on her house. You can tell her there's been a threat made but I'm not giving you details as to what it was or how it was delivered so you don't have to lie to her. I'll give both of them the details when I get there for dinner. Secure your surroundings, Seth," I instruct.

"Done," he says again.

I end the call by reminding him my phone is never switched off and then I go into the hotel room again and pull it apart to find anything else the 'postman' had left behind.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Emmett POV**

"I'm going to the restroom," I announce, throwing Jasper a knowing look.

He'll do my dirty work while I'm gone. I hate having to manipulate Ed this way, but I don't have much of a choice and Jasper agrees.

I go towards the restrooms, have a quick look over my shoulder to make sure Ed's engrossed in his conversation with Jasper and then I duck down the hall to Bella's office.

She calls me in at my knock and I find her with her head in her hands on the top of her desk.

"You're doing great," I tell her softly as I take the seat opposite the desk. "Give us a minute Seth?" I ask my man who nods and slips out quietly. "You're safe," I tell her straight up.

"Doesn't mean I'm not scared," she mumbles behind her hands.

"I know," I sigh. "Jasper's talking to him now so he should invite you to the house when you come to the table with the bill."

"Why can't you just tell us both here?" she asks, lifting her face so her red rimmed eyes meet mine.

"Because I need him as clear headed as possible while we're out in public," I remind her. "I know you don't like this, the scheming, but it's safer to get him home and tell you both there. I can't risk him changing personas in public."

"Fine," she mumbles, swiping at her eyes.

"Okay then. I'll go back to the table, you get your things together and when you're ready bring us the bill and hopefully he'll do the rest," I tell her as I get to my feet.

She nods but says nothing. I understand and I don't take it personally. She's frightened and not just for herself. She's having to trust me to fix this, and to keep her safe, and she doesn't really know me very well.

Jasper gives me an almost unperceivable nod when I get back to the booth and I hope it's because he's successfully planted the idea of inviting Bella to the house.

"You want anything else?" I ask Edward.

"God no," he groans. "I'm stuffed," he chuckles, patting his stomach.

"I'll call for the bill then," I tell him, then balk. "Oh, here comes Bella. The steak was sublime," I tell her once she's standing at the head of the booth.

"Glad you enjoyed it," she smiles. "How were the ribs?" she asks Ed.

"So good," he almost purrs. "The guys will have to pour me into the car I'm so full," he chuckles.

"What about you?" she asks Jasper. "What did you think of the pork?"

"I'm with him," he chuckles, pointing at Ed. "I'm gonna waddle out of here I ate so much."

"Good to know," she giggles quite convincingly though I can hear the strain in her voice and see it on her face. "Can I bring you all a coffee?"

"Oh no," Ed groans. "I'll explode. I'll have to wait at least an hour before I put anything else in my body," he laughs. "What about you? Are you finished for the night soon? Would you like to come back to the house and have coffee with us later?"

I have to work hard to stifle any expression of relief as he asks the question and I manage it, though Bella does flick her eyes to mine. I want to tell her that I have seen and understood her distaste of the manipulation but I can't, so I stay quiet and still.

"I'd like that," she smiles. "I can leave when you guys are ready."

"Go and round up Seth then and we'll head out," I suggest and she nods and leaves the table.

It's easy to get Ed moving after that. He's eager to spend time with her and eager to get home and change into comfortable clothes after such a big meal so he's on his feet and ready to go when Bella and Seth come out from the direction of the office.

**BPOV**

We made the drive to Edward's house in silence. Seth understood why I was upset and he didn't offer any empty words to try and ease that pain. I was grateful.

Edward meets us at the door and right away he pulls me to him, kissing my cheek softly and welcoming me.

I return his hug, and kiss him hello in return too, but I have to work hard to keep the tension out of my expression as we move through the house.

Edward had made coffee for us, proudly announcing his accomplishment the second I was in view of the kitchen.

"Go into the living room, I'll bring the tray," he says with a nod and I eagerly comply.

I can't look him in the eye and the chance to escape without that being noticed was a heady pull.

Emmett and Jasper are already seated and Seth is just greeting them and choosing a chair for himself when I join them.

"I'll be gentle," Emmett assures me once I've taken a seat on one end of the sofa, leaving a space for Edward who comes in holding his tray with a grin.

He sets it down and doles out the mugs and then sits beside me.

"I wanted to talk to you both about something that happened while you were doing your interviews this afternoon," Emmett began cautiously, before anyone else can start any other innocuous conversation.

"Oh yes?" Edward asks, eyebrows raised.

"In the adjoining suite someone had left an envelope and letter," he says slowly. "It was addressed to you personally but I opened it," he admits.

"Alright," Edward says, drawing out the syllables.

"I don't have the original, I sent it to Alice, but I wrote down what it said," Emmett continues, pulling out a scrap of paper from his pocket. "Do you want to read it for yourself?" he offers, holding it out in front of himself.

"You read it," Edward replies, reaching between us and clasping my hand tightly.

"Alright," Emmett sighs. "You didn't take my previous warnings seriously. You've forced me to prove just how serious I am. I got into this room to leave this note so believe that I can get to Bella and I can get to you too if I want. Whenever I want to. If you don't stop seeing each other there won't be anything any of your people can do to stop me getting to you."

I gasped. I couldn't help it. The note mentioned me by name, personally. Fear flooded my system immediately.

I look to Edward who is staring at Emmett blankly.

I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle the first of my sobs but still Edward just stares, his face and eyes blank.

"What do we do?" I manage to ask when it looks like Edward isn't going to.

"Firstly I want to assure you both that you're safe here," Emmett says evenly.

He's about to say something else but Edward pulls his hand out of mine and leaps to his feet, closing the distance between himself and Emmett in one quick stride. "Give me your notes," he demands, holding his hand out.

Emmett puts the scrap of paper into his hand and sighs. "You're safe," he says again as Edward reads the note over.

"Who the hell is Bella?" Edward asks as he lowers the paper to his side.

"I am," I squeak, my voice catching in my throat.

"Ed..." Emmett begins but Edward cuts him off again.

"Who are you? Who sent you? Who are you working under? Has your cover been compromised? Whoever sent this knows your real name!" Edward barks at me.

I look to Emmett who has gotten to his feet. "That's enough!" he shouts.

Edward doesn't even startle at the sharpness of Emmett's tone. "If you've brought this to my doorstep through incompetence I'll have your clearance revoked," Edward scowls at me, ignoring the others completely. "My cover may be blown too by her ineptitude," he says, turning sharply to face both Emmett and Jasper. "Check that our encryptions have held on all electronic devices in the house," he barks. "I want this place scoured to make sure it isn't bugged and I want your full report on my desk in two hours," he bellows at me.

"Edward," Emmett says softly, stepping forward a little.

"It's James!" Edward shouts, the veins in his forehead standing out and his cheeks flushing with his anger. "How many times must I remind you of my name?" he hisses. "My mission may have been jeopardised by this, this, girl, and I want this place in lockdown until I can contact the organisation and set things straight. Do not cross me on this," he snarls at Emmett.

"Alright, alright," Emmett agrees as he puts his hands up in surrender. "Go up to your lab and let us all get to work on that."

"Good. That's better," Edward says more evenly. "I'm the senior agent here. Just remember that. I'll be in the lab."

With that he slaps the piece of paper down onto the coffee table and stalks out of the room muttering under his breath about incompetence and manservant's who don't know their place.

We all watch him go and it seems as though everyone else in the room is holding their breath too because as soon as the sound of a slammed door echoes through the house we all let out a breath in unison.

"Bella?" Emmett asks softly.

I look up at him and blink a few times to clear away the tears. "James?" I ask. It's all I'm capable of.

"He thinks he's the spy James Goodall, from the Mission films," Emmett sighs.

"I think I like Rupert better," I mumble before putting my head in my hands and letting the tears fall.

**Emmett POV**

I do my best to calm Bella down and get her set up in one of the guest rooms for the night. I get her fresh towels and a bottle of water, show her where she can plug in the charger for her phone and where all the dimmer switches are for the lights.

She can't meet my eyes and I don't blame her.

I know she understands now why it was so important for me to tell Ed about the letter here, rather than in her office, but I understand why she's so upset about the whole episode.

She was frightened for herself and for Edward and meeting James in all his arrogant misguided glory was never pleasant in any circumstances. So she was pretty upset and pretty exhausted by the time I convinced her to go to bed.

I'd sent Seth back to her house to pack her a bag and while she showered I called all of Sam's crew for their reports. So far we had nothing and that pissed me off.

We still had no information about the other devices we'd found in her office, car and home and now we had the letters origins to trace and it was frustrating. Very frustrating.

It didn't feel like a lie to promise her I'd keep her safe but there was a tiny, minute part of me that knew I couldn't be everywhere, every minute of every day to ensure it.

I trusted my team. I trusted Sam's crew. But I didn't know my enemy and that made me uneasy.

With everyone in the house asleep, and Ed in his 'lab', I use the quiet time to go over all the notes on everything I knew so far. It isn't much but it's a place to start.

I cross check the names on the list from the hotel of employees and guests who had had access to the same floor Ed used that day with the lists I had of people who had threatened him before, but nothing jumped out at me. Not a single name was on both lists.

I watch the security footage from the hour before his scheduled interview time and saw nothing other than the two magazine crews arriving, and then us arriving too. Without a court order one hour was all the hotel management would give me.

Alice had nothing on the letter itself. No fingerprints, no marks or anything the printer had left behind that would help identify who sent it or on what computer it had been made.

With no other way to trace its origins I take a fresh sheet of paper and write out each line of the letter separated by a dozen blank lines to give me room to make notes.

The first line, _You didn't take my previous warnings seriously, _upsets me more than anything else written. Even the mention of Bella's name specifically wasn't as scary as the opening line.

What previous warnings? Sure, someone had called Bella's office and warned her to stay away from 'him', but that had been fairly vague. At the time it could've meant either Edward or Seth, as they were both fairly new to being in her company.

That line now tied Edward and Bella together in the warning. The letter had been addressed to Ed personally, so the 'him' mentioned in the call couldn't be Seth any longer. It was Edward.

_You've forced me to prove just how serious I am. _

That could only mean one thing. Whoever was targeting my marks, plural because Bella was now tied up in whatever was going on and I had a duty of care towards her too now that she was back in Ed's life, was about to step up his or her game.

And it could be either gender. The term 'bad guy' had long since only meant males.

Having no clue who was behind the threat meant I had no clue what he or she would do to escalate it. Tightening security around both my marks was the only course I could take and it still wouldn't ensure they were totally safe. That was impossible and a bodyguard who told you otherwise was a delusional liar.

_I got into this room to leave this note so believe that I can get to Bella and I can get to you too if I want. _They had me there. They had gotten into the room undetected, left no trace of themselves and I didn't doubt that my marks could be gotten to. How to prevent it was my task.

_When I want to _was the next line and seemed superfluous. It wasn't necessary after the previous line and so I assumed it was a show of the authors ego coming to the fore.

We were working to his or her timeline already, as the threat had come from them, so the line wasn't needed.

_If you don't stop seeing her there won't be anything any of your people can do to stop me. _

This was the most interesting and most telling line of all.

'If you don't stop seeing her' made the threat sound like someone was equally pissed at them both because the initial call had made the threat appear to be about Bella staying away from Ed.

Therefore both my marks were the targets. Possibly for different reasons, but just as possibly for the same reason too. Whoever was making these threats wanted to hurt them both. That was now clear.

'Anything any of your people' was also telling. For years I'd been almost the only of Edward's 'people' seen with him. Whoever wrote the note knew there was more than just me guarding him. That leans towards an inside job, or someone at least close enough to know and understand the business.

Prior to Jasper joining the team there had been no specific threat made.

Prior to Bella arriving to talk to Ed, after a five year absence in his life, there had been no specific threat made.

But, prior to Bella's arrival Tanya had appeared to be the consummate professional, if a little overbearing and demanding. But since Bella's arrival she'd been vindictive, secretive and even more demanding, unreasonably so. If that was because of the re-emergence of Bella that lent itself to Tanya knowing more than she'd let on before. If it was a symptom of something else I didn't know what.

That left me with three possible suspects and a fourth, unknown entity. Jasper, Bella, Tanya and a ghost.

Movement on the monitor to my right caught my attention, but what I was seeing made no sense at all.

It was Ed, walking down the long hallway from the back of the house, coming towards the office from his 'lab'. He was still wearing jeans and the t-shirt he'd put on after dinner but now he was sporting a rather fetching black bowtie.

He was grinning widely and that made me uneasy. I hated it when he was in inventing mode.

I gather my papers and slip them into my top drawer just as he comes through the office door.

"I've cracked it!" he announces proudly.

"Cracked what? And what's with the bowtie?" I chuckle.

"Those earpieces the organisation issues us with are terrible," he announces, giving me a heads up that he still thought he was James. "I decided to try using a bowtie instead," he says, craning his neck to show me it, though I can see it plain as day.

"And you've made it work?" I ask skeptically as I pull my own earpiece and its receiver from another drawer, knowing he was going to want to test his.

"Of course I've made it work, I'm a professional," he scoffs. "Put yours on and I'll show you the superiority of this design."

"Alrighty then," I scoff, slipping the twisted coil of plastic coated wire over the shell of my ear and pushing the putty-like receiver into my ear canal. I tap it with my fingertip to power it up and then nod at him. "I'm good to go."

He tilts his head to the left and I hear an audible crackle as whatever power source he's used comes on line.

He grins, looking a little 'evil inventor-ish' and then opens his mouth to speak.

"Stand by..." is as far as he gets. Whatever is in the collar seems to shock him. Not startle him, but rather actually shocks him, like a belt of electricity directly applied to his throat.

"What the fuck did you use?" I shout, getting to my feet and rushing around to his side of my desk.

"Mistake," he manages to squeak. "Must've got a dog..." he begins and gets another belt in the throat for his trouble.

"You used a dog shock collar?" I ask, appalled. "Those things are cruel," I mutter darkly as I reach for the clasp on the back of the bowtie.

"Eeek," he squeaks as he tries to speak again and I can't help but laugh.

I pull the collar from his neck and throw it onto the desk in case it gives me a jolt too. "Niiiice," I drawl as I stare at his shocked face. "I didn't pick you for a Pekingese though."

The switch is instant, as it usually is if he's injured himself as James. He blinks once, twice and then a third time before shivering from head to toe.

"You were headed to bed," I tell him before he can ask why he's up and about at this hour.

He stares at me a second and then nods.

He's muttering all sorts of things as he makes his way back down the hall to his bedroom. Most of it incoherent as his voice is still a little high, but I can make out a few things. Ow, sore throat and crazy are mentioned and I hope with everything that I have that he'd just sleep it off now.

I watch him go into his bedroom and the door close behind him and sigh.

"Sleep it off, Edward. I need a coherent version of you back in the morning," I mumble as I lock the office door and head to my own bed.

**EPOV**

Fear floods my system as I open my eyes.

I'm sore, my neck and throat are aching, but its fear that wakes me, not pain.

Fear for Bella, fear for myself and fear that someone or something is coming for us.

I leap from the bed and run through my home, her name chanting through my mind. I open every door in the hall that leads away from my bedroom. If she's here, and I feel it in my bones that she is, I'll find her. I'll protect her.

Emmett's snoring. Jasper's got an arm hanging over the bed. Seth's naked ass makes me wince. Bella's snuffling in her sleep when I find her in the last of the guest rooms.

I stride to the side of the bed and shake her awake. She comes round fast, sitting bolt upright, shouting at me, begging me to tell her what's wrong.

"Someone's threatened us," I shout down at her as she wipes at her eyes. "There's a letter. A note. I don't know which. But your name is on it."

"I know," she says blearily but her voice isn't panicked enough, she's not scared enough.

"Your _name_ was on the letter!" I roar. "The threat's real. I didn't dream it. It's real. We have to get out of here. We'll be hurt. I can't let you be hurt!" I shout, tugging on her arm until she's standing too.

"Edward!" Emmett roars as he comes barrelling into the room heading straight for me. "Take your hand off her!" he growls. I let her go immediately and he steps closer. "Go back to your room," he tells me in a low, menacing voice.

"Someone's coming for us," I shout, hoping he'll believe me.

"I know," he sighs, "just go back to your room. I'll be there in a minute."

I stare at him and wonder why he's not panicking. Why are neither of them panicking if they know I'm telling the truth? I look to Bella who's wide awake now and staring back at me. She nods her head when I raise my eyebrows in question at her and I take that to mean that I should do as Emmett has requested.

I leave the room and make my way back to my own. I use the bathroom, brush my teeth and stare at the feint red welt that rings my throat for a moment before going back into my room and pulling on some sweats and a t-shirt. I sit on the edge of my bed and wait for someone to tell me what the fuck is going on and why nobody else is afraid.

**Emmett POV**

"You okay?" I ask her as she flops back down on the bed.

"Yeah," she sighs, scrubbing at her face with her palms.

"At least he remembers?" I hedge with a cringe, trying to find the silver lining.

"What do we do?"

"Reassure him that I'm on it," I shrug. "There isn't anything else we can do because we don't know anything yet. Do you want to talk to him about it? Or do you want me to?"

She takes a deep breath before answering. "I can't reassure him that he's safe because I can't protect him. It'll have to come from you," she says logically.

I flick my eyes to the clock beside the bed and see that it's only five thirty in the morning and sigh. "A late night and an early morning for you, sorry."

"It's for the best that he's aware," she says, giving no thought to herself.

"I think it's time he's aware of some other things too," I say carefully as I sit on the bed beside her.

"You want to tell him about his other personalities, don't you?" she asks sadly.

"Yeah, I do," I confirm, though I don't like the idea knowing how he was going to react. "Things are happening that I can't predict or contain. If whoever is threatening you both does get near him and he's not more stable than he is now he'll get himself killed, and maybe you along with him. I can't let that happen so I have to force the issue with him now.

"You know I don't want to, not like this. And you know I don't want him hurt any more than you do, but nothing else has worked."

"I know. And I agree. I do. I just..." she trails off.

"You're afraid," I finish for her.

"Not for myself," she tells me firmly. "I'm afraid for him. What if the choices we make on his behalf right now make him worse? What if he never remembers? What if he's like this forever?"

"You love him as he is already. If he never remembers will that change?" I ask softly and grin at her sharp intake of breath.

The silence stretches out as she thinks on it. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears when they meet mine and I can see the determined jut of her chin quite clearly in the dim light. "I just want him well. If he never remembers I'll love him as he is now but if he does, well, if he does I'll help him grieve and recover and then I'll love who he becomes too."

"Did you love him before?" I ask, wondering if she'll answer seeing as it's none of my business.

"I was sixteen when I first met him," she says softly. "He was just starting out and I thought he was the hottest, sexiest thing on two legs I'd ever seen so yeah, as much as a sixteen year old can love someone I loved him."

"And later? When you were older?" I ask cautiously.

"I was too young," she shrugs. "He knew how I felt, later on, when I was at college and old enough to date properly, he knew. But he always said he was too old for me and that the whole Hollywood scene wasn't good for me."

"And then you met and married your husband?" I ask, trying to piece together a timeline in my head.

"I met Jake when I was nineteen, my first year of college," she sighs. "I thought if I went out and dated, tried to have a real relationship with someone, that Edward would see me as a woman and not a little girl."

"But he didn't?" I ask, skeptically.

"I don't know," she says quietly, bowing her head. "Daddy was killed soon after and Edward refused to see me after that."

"You know now that he didn't refuse, right?"

"I want to believe that. I want to believe that he just didn't remember me, but it's hard, Em. So hard. After spending so much time together, years really, and being so close, it's hard to believe that he doesn't remember any of it."

"He really doesn't," I assure her, knowing that the confirmation of it had to hurt all the same. "But I think it's time we get tough and try and force him to remember, for his own safety and for yours."

"I'll do whatever it takes," she says firmly.

"Let's start with a shower and coffee for you and I'll impart a little information to him and then we'll regroup. What do you think?" I ask, getting to my feet.

"I want to be with him when you tell him about James and Rupert," she says, getting to her feet too.

"Then I'll talk to him about the letter and we'll talk to him about the rest together."

"Thank you," she sighs.

**EPOV**

"Did I dream it?" I ask the instant Emmett comes into my bedroom.

"No, it's real," he tells me straight up.

"It was a letter? Addressed to me but it had Bella's name in it?"

"Correct."

"Someone wants to hurt her?" I ask, my gut clenching with fear.

"No, someone wants to hurt you both."

"But why?"

"That I don't know."

"We should leave. Go far away. I've got plenty of money haven't I?" I ask, desperate to get her somewhere safe if Emmett didn't know who was threatening us.

"You've got plenty of money but Ed, that won't solve anything," he tells me as he pulls the chair by the windows over by the bed. "Listen, someone is always threatening you. Someone is always watching you, waiting for a chance to get to you. But I protect you from those people. I head them off before they get close enough.

"But this threat involves Bella too and it's been made by someone who knows you both and that's a problem for me because you don't remember anyone you used to know. I can discount the people you know now by a process of elimination, but the ones you knew before I have no clue about.

"So for now we stay put here, where you're safe and Bella's safe and I have good control of the immediate environment. Both threats have been delivered to places where security is lax. No, not lax exactly. But either out of my direct control or a public place where it can't be locked down. But here I have control. If we run I run the risk of opening you both up to an environment that I don't have so much control over and that's dangerous.

"I know you're frightened and that's normal, but it's my job to worry in your stead so you need to let me do that. If it comes to the point where I need you to be worried too I'll tell you."

"I'm afraid," I admit.

"I know you are. And Bella is too, which is why you need to be strong for her and why you need to try to remember."

"How will that help?" I ask. "How will me remembering something awful that happened to _me_ help keep _her_ safe?"

"It will help," he insists. "Because if you remember I hope you'll return to being the real you and you'll be stronger mentally and able to think more clearly and that means that if you ever find yourself, or you and Bella find yourselves in a situation that relies on you thinking clearly you'll be able to protect her."

It makes sense to me. It's logical and it makes sense but I'm too scared of too many things to want to admit that. "I need to ask her to come to Rosalie's with me, don't I? It can't wait any more, can it?" I ask.

"No, it can't wait any longer," he agrees sadly. "There are a few more things I need to talk to you about before you see Rose on Wednesday, and some of those things I want Bella to sit in on, but yes. You need to broach the subject of your sessions with Bella today."

"Is she alright? I think I frightened her," I mumble.

"She's fine. She's very strong, Ed. She's strong and kind and she cares about you. She's going to want to go with you I think, so asking her isn't as big a deal as you think it's going to be."

"I'll go find her, apologise for waking her the way I did and then I'll ask her about the sessions. Do you promise to tell me if I need to start worrying about other things?" I ask.

"I swear it," he says firmly with a nod. "I don't want you uninformed I just need you well enough to handle the information I give you."

"I'll do whatever you need me to do to remember then," I tell him.

"Good," he says, getting to his feet and putting the chair back by the windows. "Go find her, grovel a little then we'll have some coffee and some breakfast and we'll talk a little bit before she goes off to work and you're due on the phone for those radio shows."

"I'd forgotten about those," I huff. "I hate them. The callers are always giggling fangirls and the questions they ask are always way too personal and nothing to do with the movie."

"Sucks to be so popular," he teases, cuffing me on the shoulder as he goes towards the door.

"You listen to them squeal then," I tease back.

**BPOV**

"One minute!" I call through the bathroom door at the knock.

I give my hair one last rub and then brush it out as best I can before hanging my towels back up and throwing all my things into the toiletries bag Seth had brought with him from my house. I step out of the steam filled room to find Edward sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hey," I say softly as I drop the small wet pack into the overnight bag by the door.

"I'm so sorry I frightened you awake like that," he says.

"It's okay," I assure him, smiling back. "I much preferred yesterdays wake up call, but no harm done today."

He blushed! I made Edward Cullen blush!

"Yeah, well..." he trails off, rubbing at his scalp with his palm.

"Yeah, well," I echo as I go to him and stand between his parted knees. I take his hand, the trembling one in his hair, and pull it to my belly, holding it tight. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay. We're safe here and Emmett and Jasper, Seth and Sam's team too, they'll work this out."

He tugs my hand aside, though he doesn't let go of it, and leans forward so that he can rest the top of his coppery mop on my stomach. "I need to remember now, and quickly Emmett thinks," he mumbles, though I catch the words. "I'm scared to, but I want to, if it'll keep you safe from whoever is bothering us. But I need to ask you to do something with me," he whispers.

"So ask," I whisper back.

He takes a deep breath but doesn't lift his head so I can't see his eyes. "I want you to come with me to a session with Rosalie, she's my therapist. You know things I don't remember. If you talk to her about those things she might be able to help me remember them for myself. Will you come with me to my next session? Please?"

"I'll do whatever you need me to do," is my simple answer and it makes him sigh in what I hope is relief.

"Why," he asks, his words rumbling against my belly.

"Why what?" I ask, trying hard to concentrate on what was a serious topic because of the fact that I had free rein to delve my fingertips into Edward Cullen's hair.

"Why do you want to help me?" he asks and before I can reply he goes on. "I know you're going to say that we're friends, that we were friends before, but I don't think a friend would go to these lengths to help another friend.

"I don't have any friends now, except for you and Em and the other guys I suppose, but I know what friends are and what they do. I've put you in danger and I upset you over and over, so why are you so willing to do whatever I need you to do?"

His words bother me, more than I'm willing to admit, because of the way I feel about him but I have to set that aside for now. So I slip the fingers of my free hand under his chin and physically insist he looks up at me.

His eyes are puffy when he does. His hairs a mess, he's got enough luggage under his eyes to load a 747 to the brim and his bottom lip is trembling.

Whatever I was going to say will have to wait as I stare down at him. This lost, lovely man. _My_ lost and lovely man I think as I sink to my knees before him. Still holding his chin in my fingers I lean forward a little and kiss him softly at the corner of his mouth.

I want more, I've always wanted more, but I stop at just the tiny kiss for now. I withdraw a little, setting my forehead against his.

"I grew up caring about you," I tell him in a whisper. "I grew up being around you. You always, always treated me with respect and kindness, always, no matter what I did or said or how many teenage tantrums I threw you were good to me. You listened when I spoke and talked with me when I needed advice. You never let me down," I say, trying not to cringe at the little lie. He had let me down, when daddy died he did let me down, but I know now that it wasn't ever intentional but I'm not ready to let go of the hurt it caused me. I will, but it's too soon just yet, so I tell the little lie. "I want to repay that kindness to you now because you're in need. Plus, you asked for my help," I say simply.

He pulls his hand free of mine at his side and slides that hand along my jaw and then under my ear. He leans forward and returns to me the kiss I'd given him. It's so, so soft and his lips are warm as he places it just by the side of my mouth.

"I don't think I deserve you but I want to," he whispers against my lips before kissing me just as softly as before.

His words shake me to my core, hearing him speak about me that way and about himself that way tugs at my heart in a way that Jake never had and never could.

**Emmett POV**

"I don't think this is the right time to talk to him about James and Rupert," she whispers to me the instant Ed's gone from the table.

"You don't?" I ask hesitantly. She'd been onboard with the idea just hours before and I had no clue what had changed since then.

"I don't," she says firmly. "He's asked me to go to his therapist with him and I think that's enough for now," she says, getting to her feet and taking our dirty breakfast dishes with her.

"I need him to remember quickly," I counter.

"Overwhelming him won't help," she argues as she scrapes the scraps into the trash. "And you don't know that what's hiding inside his head will help keep him safe from this threat."

"That's true," I concede, "But, I don't want him to remember what happened that day because it's linked to this threat. I want him to remember so he can recover and so he's more mentally stable and can protect himself if the need arises."

"You don't know that he will be, if he remembers. He might be worse than he is now."

"But he might be better," I counterclaim. "Did you see the welt around his neck?" I ask.

"How did that happen?" she asks, pausing her tidying and settling a worried expression on her face.

"When he's James he feels the need to invent things. Spy gadgets and shit like that. They never work and he almost always ends up hurting himself. Last night's effort was a bowtie with a communicator in it, like the ones we used when we were on the red carpet.

"Only he doesn't like those, or at least James doesn't. So he made his own using a bowtie and a dog's shock collar. Only god knows where he got it. I'll have to hack his laptop and see if he's set up another eBay account," I hiss, frustrated. "My point is he's getting worse. It's escalating. The number of times he's slipped into another personality in the last week is three times the number he'd slip in a month normally."

"It's because of me, isn't it?" she asks sadly, putting her palms against the counter and lowering her chin.

"Yes, it is," I say firmly, "but it's a good thing. Sort of," I tell her before she can speak. "I've tried for years to break through, to get him to either get better or worse, not knowing which one was going to do the trick and unlock his memory. You've succeeded where I've failed."

"It's hardly a success if he's getting hurt more often," she mumbles.

"He's shown no emotion, other than to get pissed at me when I thwart his inventing attempts, for almost the whole five years I've been here, Bella," I tell her softly. "Since you turned up here, since you came back into his life, he's talked more about his feelings than he has in five years. He's cried. Actually cried. Admitted things to me, expressed things to me. Good or bad I count that as a success."

"Okay," she sighs as she sets the plates into the dishwasher. "I'm just scared that giving him _all_ the information at once will break him. And if he breaks, fully breaks," she says, pointing a spatula at me, "then there's a chance he'll never recover. Ever."

"I know," I sigh right back. "Maybe you're right. And a few days won't hurt in the scheme of things. Go to his therapy session with him and see how it goes," I shrug.

"If it goes well there might never be a need to tell him about James and Rupert, did you ever think about that?" she says with a grin.

I quirk an eyebrow at her because I hadn't. I get to my feet, grinning stupidly. "You, young lady, are a smart cookie," I chuckle.

"I aim to please," she laughs right back.

"He's all yours until seven," I tell her as I head towards the office. "He's got two morning radio interviews to give so I need him clear headed. Or close to it."

"I'll be gentle," she giggles.

**EPOV**

"Will I see you again today, or tonight?" I ask in a whisper as we stand by her car in my drive.

"You could come and see me at my home, if you wanted to. If Emmett says it's okay. I mean, it's nothing special, but you could..."

"I'd like that," I interrupt. Her stammering is adorable because I know she's as nervous as I am. "If it's possible, and he says it's safe, Em will bring me. What time do you finish?"

She looks down at her watch and then back up to me with a smile. "About four. I could make us dinner if you wanted to come around six?"

"You don't have to cook for me again. You made me breakfast. Twice now. And it was awesome today again," I grin.

"I like to cook and we both have to eat," she shrugs but I'm not buying the nonchalant shrug.

She wants to cook for me and she wants me to see her home.

"If Em says it's okay I'll be there at six and I'd love it if you cooked for me," I tell her lowly, so we aren't overheard by Seth who is sitting patiently in the driver's seat already.

"Good, then I'll see you at six," she says excitedly.

I step a little closer, wanting to kiss her goodbye, but still unsure where we stand or what is going on between us, but she meets me halfway and puts her hand to my chest as she leans in.

She kisses my cheek as I kiss hers and it's quick and soft but not quick enough for me to miss her little sharp intake of breath.

We step apart quickly, both still nervous, and I hold the door open for her as she slides into her seat.

I do as I did the day before and stand in the driveway and watch Seth take her away from me. I hate him again this morning.

"Ten minutes!" Emmett shouts from the front steps.

"I'm coming," I shout back, my eyes never leaving the vehicle as it goes through the gates.

To the second ten minutes later I'm in the office with a phone to my ear being interviewed by a guy called Gary Love – which can't possibly be his real name – about the Mission series.

As predicted the questions are inane, boring and pretty standard stuff. The interview takes just five minutes and the callers are squealing fangirls which makes Em laugh behind his hand as he listens in on another extension.

I'm given just ten minutes between the first and second interview so I use the bathroom, chug down some water and am sitting back at Emmett's desk ready to receive the call from the next radio station with a minute or two to spare before air time.

"This guy's name is Pete someone or other," Em tells me as he pushes the phone console closer to me. "It's a quicker interview but they'll take three more callers than the last one."

"Great," I mutter.

"You're doing great. Get this in the bag and you've got the whole rest of the day to yourself until your date," he grins.

"I don't even know if it's a date," I mumble. "She just said we both have to eat so we may as well eat together."

"It's a date," he chuckles. "Women cook dinner for men they want to date. And women invite men they want to date to their homes. So it's a date."

"I don't even know if I've ever dated anyone before," I tell him.

"I checked, way back when, there were pictures of you with a couple girls, actresses mostly, but I don't know if you were dating them or being seen with them," he tells me as the phone rings.

"_Mr Cullen please," _says a female voice on the other end. I tell her it's me and she gives me a twenty second countdown, then a ten, then five and then I'm on the air.

**Emmett POV**

The interview is like all the others he's done over the past years. Boring, repetitive questions and a sycophant for a DJ. I know he hates doing them but he's contracted so he sucks it up.

"_We've gone to a traffic report. You've got one minute until we take the first caller," _says the woman.

I listen to the countdown on the other extension while Ed rolls his eyes at me across the desk. I throw him a sympathetic smile.

"_Welcome back to the morning rush hour show. I'm Pete and we've got Edward Cullen, start of the latest instalment of the Shadow Mission series joining us this morning. The lines have almost blown up this morning Edward, so we'll take the first call. You've got Nancy from South Whittier on the line," _the announcer tells Ed.

"Hi Nancy," he says cheerily into his handset.

"_Oh my god," _she squeals, making Ed wince. "_I can't believe I'm actually talking to you. Wait till I tell my sister!" _

Pete calms her down long enough to get her to ask her question, which, as Ed predicted, is far too personal and nothing to do with the movie. Shelley is next, her question is even more invasive than Nancy's. Caller three is a dear little old lady named Marlene who would 'desperately love tickets to see the movie for her grandson Jed' and caller four is Gabby, a fourteen year old fangirl who 'wants to move to Hollywood and become famous and rich and get her boobs enhanced so she can star in Lara Croft films'.

I cringe when Ed does, sigh when he does, laugh when he does.

We aren't laughing when caller five comes on the line.

"_I'm standing in her living room looking at pictures of the two of you together," _the male caller claims in a low, menacing tone. _"I warned you, Edward. I warned Bella too. You didn't listen so you can't stop me now."_

"Hang up," I hiss to Edward, covering the handset with my hand.

He hangs up immediately and I hear Pete apologise for the dropped calls, on both ends. He's quick to recover, throwing to a song and then the female producer is back on the line.

"I have no idea who..."

"I want a recording of that call and I'm sending someone to your studio right now to collect it," I bark down the line, stopping her from going any further. "If you have tracing equipment I want my man to have access to it. His name's Sam Uley and he'll be there in twenty." I hang up and while I'm dialling Sam's number the alarm pattern on my cell phone chimes. I look down at it, realise what it is I'm seeing and curse heavily.

"What the fuck?" Ed asks the instant I pause.

"Nothing for you to worry about," I tell him straight up so he doesn't panic and switch personalities on me. "Go and make yourself a coffee, let me handle this," I tell him. His eyes are already wide and his body is shaking in fear. I cancel the call to Sam and give him my full attention first. "Listen to me," I tell him firmly, "I'll handle this. This is what I do. I protect you and I'll protect her. Go and make a coffee and go and get yourself settled in the library while I get my team moving on this. It might take me a little while but I will sort this out. Alright?"

"Yeah, alright," he mumbles as he gets to his feet.

I wait until I hear the kettle come on in the kitchen and then I redial Sam's number. "Sam, get down to the studio, the address is on the schedule. Collect tapes of the calls he took on air and if they've got tracers I want that info too. Take it to Alice. Call Jasper for the address," I wait until he says he's on it and then I hang up.

The phone on my desk rings immediately, but Ed picks that moment to stick his head around the door. He's ashen and I can see that he's fighting the switch. "Calm down, I'm on it, I swear," I tell him as calmly as I can. "Go and rest, read, watch a movie, just relax. I swear to you that you're safe here, she's safe with Seth and I'll find out who's doing this, but you need to stay put where I know you're safe and let me get things moving. Alright?" he nods but says nothing. I throw a glance towards the door and finally he nods just once and leaves the office. "What?" I bark into the phone when I snatch it back up.

"Alarm going off at Bella's, advise," Seth tells me straight up.

"Bring her here, now. Jasper's already on a job so I'll have Leah and Paul go to her house, you can join them after you've delivered your mark to me," I tell him.

"Done," he says and disconnects the call.

I dial again immediately. "Leah. Grab Paul and haul ass to Bella's residence. Secure it but don't enter it, there might be an unknown threat inside it. Seth will meet you there after brining Bella to me here. Don't leave there until you hear from me," I tell her, to which she replies that she's already moving. I dial Jasper next. He answers on the first ring. "You hear it?" I ask.

"Fucking eerie," he says by way of confirmation that he'd heard the caller and had been listening to the radio interview.

"Stay there with Alice. I'll have Sam deliver you tapes and any information he gets at the station. Do what you can with it," I tell him.

"The alarm at Bella's?" he asks. His phone would've gotten the same chime as mine and I'm pleased he can multitask.

"A teams on their way there now. Repeat what you remember was said," I ask him.

"Um, I'm standing in her house looking at photos of you both together. I warned you both. But I think he might have named them each in turn," he tells me.

"Yeah, that's what I remember too," I sigh. "Okay. Get the tapes then send me a copy via text message so I can get the actual wording right and then we'll see where we're at."

"On it, boss," he says before hanging up.

I sit back in my chair and try to clear my head so I can form a plan. I don't get far when my phones goes again. It's Seth and I have a bad, bad feeling even before I answer it.

"There's a ten feet deep press contingent outside the restaurant," he says hurriedly. "I'm taking her out through the back and we'll come at Ed's place in the zigzag pattern you used after the red carpet. ETA twenty minutes. Check your monitors, if they're here it won't be long until you've got them too," he says before disconnecting the call.

"Motherfucker!" I hiss as I swivel in my seat so I can change the picture on the monitors. "Son of a bitch," I snarl as I watch the first white van pull up to the curb on the other side of the road. Two more pull up in the time it takes me to switch images so I'm looking from the camera perched on top of the gatehouse. "You bastard," I mumble at whoever it was that had set this all into motion.

I race out into the kitchen and find Ed dutifully sipping on a mug of coffee.

"Will you swear to sign with Aro Volturi if I can get you and Bella out of here to somewhere safe for a few days until I can plan what to do about this threat?" I ask vaguely.

He stares at me a moment and I find myself hoping to any god who would listen that he was Edward and not James or Rupert right then.

"I'll sign whatever you think I should sign," he says simply.

"Pack enough clothes for a week. Throw in your cell and laptop chargers as well as the phone and laptop themselves. Take your script so you'll have something to do. Nothing else electronic!" I shout over my shoulder as I race back to the office.

Left with no other option I dial a number on my phone that makes my gut clench. In five years I'd never had to do what I was about to do and it didn't sit well with me, even if I was one hundred percent sure it was the right course to take.

"Garrett, its Emmett," I say when the call connects. "Get the services up to speed and stock me with enough food and shit for six people for at least a week. We'll arrive tonight, after midnight probably, we'll come to you first. I'll need to swap the cars once we're there, can you arrange that?"

"How many vehicles?" he asks. Garrett was good like that. I didn't have to explain myself and he understood my verbal shorthand without needing to ask questions.

"Three to swap but I'll only need two in exchange," I tell him.

"Done. See you after midnight, little brother," he chuckles.

"Tell mom I'll come by in a few days, once I've got my guests settled," I tell him with a sigh before hanging up and dialling one more time.

"Welcome to Volturi and Associates Management, this is Jane speaking, to whom may I direct your call?" a pleasant sounding woman answers.

"Emmett McCarty calling for Aro please, Jane."

"One moment Mr McCarty," she advises before I'm treated to a rousing rendition of Born in the USA done on a pan flute. "Connecting you now Mr McCarty," she tells me before I hear the tell tale click of the call being transferred.

"Emmett, so good of you to call," Aro chuckles. "Do we have a deal?"

That was Aro, straight down to business. "Edward's ready to sign but I need you to do something for him right away," I tell him straight up.

"Name it," he chuckles, "though it had better not have anything to do with drugs or prostitution."

"Nothing like that," I assure him. "He's still as clean as a whistle and I'll make sure he stays that way. The kids got someone threatening him and his girlfriend. I need to buy some time so I can make it go away but I need to stash them somewhere safe while I do it. The wolves are braying at my door, and hers, as we speak," I say, throwing a quick glance at the monitor and seeing more vans pulling up outside the gates. "Whoever is threatening them has outed them as a couple to the press by the looks of it."

"I'll do what I can though I wasn't aware he was seeing anyone," Aro replies calmly. "She had better not be some money hungry wannabe starlet you want me to represent too, Emmett. I draw the line there, friendship or no. I don't do package deals no matter how nice your man thinks her titties are."

"She's nothing like that. He's seeing Isabella Swan, the daughter of Charlie Swan," I tell him and wait for a sign that he's heard and understood. His whistled 'holy shit' is proof enough he understands the enormity of my situation. "I need you to call a press conference immediately, knowing in advance that your brand new client isn't going to show up."

"Now why would I do that?" he huffs. "Not a good way to start a business relationship, Emmett," he scolds.

"You'll do it so that I can get your brand new client out of town safely so he'll still be breathing and able to make all that lovely money for you in the future," I tell him, aware that my voice had taken on a slightly sinister tone. "I need a diversion and you're a big enough name to pull the press pack away from here so we can leave without being followed."

"That's as well and good," he sighs, "but what's in this for me? I'll look like an idiot calling the press to assemble and then giving them nothing."

"He'll sign at twelve percent if you take a hit on this, Aro," I offer.

"Twelve you say? Hmmm. Well, that is a lovely figure and I suppose my enormous ego can take a hit on his behalf for something as important as this. I'll do it. How soon do you need the wolves away from your doorstep?" he asks as I pump my fist in triumph.

"I want to leave right after dark so if you call it for six that'll give me time to set everything up and get him out of here before they realise they've been duped," I tell him.

"Consider it done, my friend," he chuckles, much more genial now that he'd screwed the promise of a contract out of me. "I'll send a courier with the amended contract this instant. Do have your man sign it and return it with the courier right away so that when I tell the press that I'm his new agent it won't be a lie."

"A pleasure doing business with you, Aro," I tell him by way of an answer.

"And you, Emmett. Do say hello to your brother if that's where you're headed. And tell that stunning mother of yours that she simply must come dine with me the next time she's in our area," he chuckles.

"You're a creepy fuck, Aro," I laugh, "but I'll tell her all the same."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading. **

**Please review. **


	12. Chapter 12

**BPOV**

"I want to go home," I say belligerently to the man mountain currently blocking my path to the front door and with it the only escape route.

"Not until Leah reports in," he says just as belligerently.

"I've been here for two hours, Emmett!" I shout, hand on hip.

"And if it takes another two then this is where you'll stay," he grins. "And you can take that hand down off your hip. Pouting doesn't work on me."

"Asshole," I mutter as I push past him and head for the living room.

"Not the worst I've been called," he says to my back as I go.

Sam's still there, tapping away on a laptop that he's got plugged into a socket near an armchair. "Be patient a little longer," he says, never taking his eyes off the screen.

I plonk myself down into a chair opposite and pick up my own laptop. I'd already arranged for the relief manager to take over for a few days, citing a family emergency to explain my absence. Now I had to make sure that all the lists Emmett wanted from me were done.

The list of my living relatives was a short one, as was the list of my current friends. The employee list was easiest to gather as it was already on my laptop but the list of previous employees at the restaurant was proving more difficult to provide.

I had names but a lot of them had left years ago and I didn't have such up to date contact details for them. Emmett told me to do as much leg work as I could to track that information down so I'd spent the last hour and a half trawling through Facebook looking for them. Some I'd found, others there was no current trace of.

Phones rang off and on while I searched and each time one did I hoped it would be Leah with information about the state of my house. Nobody would tell me anything about the alarm having been triggered there, or what they'd found when they got there to check it out. Even Seth had refused to tell me anything the one time I tried calling him.

Edward's house was silent save for the ringing phones and it was doing my head in.

Jasper was with Alice working on something for Emmett elsewhere. Seth, Leah and Paul were at my house. Sam was working for Emmett from the living room and Edward was missing in action.

I'd called him from my office, as soon as he'd hung up on the radio caller, to check that he was alright but almost right after that the alarms had started going off at my house and I'd had to end the call.

He hadn't called me back to check that I was alright and that had hurt. And now I'd been at his house for two hours already and he hadn't come to check on me once in all that time.

I knew he had to be somewhere in the house but in the hours since I'd been there I hadn't seen or heard him.

"Seth's on his way back," Emmett called from the door of the office.

"Can I go there now?" I ask, getting to my feet in hope.

"You can. But it'll be a brief stop," he warns.

"I don't care. I just want to see the place with my own eyes and pack my own bags," I tell him as I unplug my laptop and stow it back in its bag.

I wait in the foyer for Seth despite Emmett telling me I can make myself comfortable wherever I like. I wait impatiently in the foyer all the same.

I run to the car, as Emmett had instructed, to avoid having my picture taken too many times by the press who were gathered outside the gates. Seth drives like a madman until we're through them and out into the normal everyday traffic, then he settles down and drives at a normal pace until we get to my house.

My house which has another long line of white vans parked opposite.

"Head up, chin up, smile but say nothing," Seth reminds me as we prepare to exit the vehicle.

We rush up the walk to my front door and then slip inside while men and women shout my name and a garbled mess of questions at me.

"Fucking parasites," Seth mutters as he closes the door behind us. "Be quick looking around though I can tell you what was touched or moved if you prefer?"

I stand in the centre of my open plan living space and scan the area. Nothing looks out of place to me. "I'll go pack a bag. You tell me what was out of place while I do that," I tell him as I hurry down the hall to my bedroom.

He follows behind me and sits himself on the end of my bed while I drag an old duffel bag down from the top of my closet. I start throwing t-shirts and jeans into it and then cross the room to my dresser.

"The things that were touched aren't the problem," he says as he takes the edges of duffel from me, holding them apart as I go back and forth throwing things into it. "It's that the security cameras were disabled, as was the audio equipment, but the alarm was tripped physically, when he or she actually came into the house. The rest was done remotely."

"So he, or she, was smart enough to be able to turn off some stuff but not to switch off the regular alarm?" I ask as I coil up the cords for my phone and iPod.

"I don't think it's a matter of dumb versus smart," he says, taking the cords from me and pushing them into one of the outside pockets of the bag. "I think it was deliberate. A show of not strength, but, well, a show of something. The threats so far have all mentioned that he, or she, has the nous to get into places whenever they want, this was done this way to prove that point."

"Was the call to the radio station actually made from my phone then?" I ask as I bundle up an armful of underwear and throw it into the bag.

"Alice says yes. She's traced the call to this number here."

"And the bit about the pictures?" I ask a little more loudly as I go into my bathroom and start gathering toiletries.

"True, sadly," he tells me. "There's a bit of damage to a few of the pages in one of your albums. Mostly pictures of you and Edward together but some of just you and some of just him were damaged too."

"Damaged how?" I ask as I throw my slippers into the bag and set my robe on the bed beside the bag.

"Looks like a cigarette was used to burn the faces on some of the pictures," he says sadly.

"Don't worry about it," I say, waving away his sadness. "I've got digital backups of everything in those albums on a memory stick. I can replace them."

"Smart girl," he chuckles.

"So what was touched?"

"There was an open can of beer on the coffee table in the living room," he tells me as he holds the top of the bag open for me to add the novel from my bedside cabinet. "Whoever it was had made themselves a sandwich from the contents of your pantry but they didn't eat it, just left it on the counter."

"A statement," I huff as I sit on the bag so the zip can be closed.

"We think so," he agrees as he gets to his feet, hefting the bag onto his shoulder. "You want to take anything else?"

I stand in my bedroom and look around. I go back to my dresser and take the small, metal tin from the top drawer and slide it into my handbag. "I'm good to go," I tell him with a firm nod once I've folded my robe over my arm.

"Right. There's no way to hide the fact that you've packed a bag and the press are going to latch on to that pretty quick. So be prepared for invasive questions. We'll walk quickly to the car, heads up, chins up, and drive away."

"Let's do this," I tell him with a firm nod.

**EPOV**

"Sign here and here and once more here," Emmett instructs me as he turns the pages of the contract. "And again here and you're all done."

I sign my name and hand him back the pen and the contract. He makes two copies of it on the copier by the window and then stuffs the original back into its envelope. He hands it to the hovering courier, reminds him to be quick about returning it to the Volturi offices and once the courier has tucked the envelope into his satchel Em walks him to the front gate.

"I've signed; now tell me what the fuck is going on?" I ask him when he returns to the office.

He gathers the two copies he's made and puts them both into the safe. "In exactly," he looks down at his watch, "One hour and forty-nine minutes your new agent is calling a press conference and you have been touted as attending at his side." I'm about to protest but he holds up a hand to stop me. "You aren't going to show and Aro has agreed to take the hit for it in return for you signing with him. You've done that so he'll cover for you."

"Why does he need to cover for me though?" I ask.

"Because I need a way to get the press away from this house, and Bella's, so that I can get you both the fuck out of here for a bit," he tells me as he starts shoving stacks of cash from the safe into a duffel bag.

"The press are here?" I ask, craning my neck so I can see out the window towards the street.

"A heap of them, yeah. And they're at Bella's house and they were at the restaurant too."

"Why though?" I ask.

"Because whoever that caller was this morning has outed you as a couple. The press want a comment from one or both of you and pictures of you together."

"So we're leaving," I mumble.

"So we're leaving," he confirms.

"But where will we go? Does Bella have a passport? How can she just up and leave work?"

"We aren't flying and she doesn't have much choice to leave work. She's organised a relief manager for a few days," he tells me as he zips the duffel bag shut and puts it by the door.

"But where will we go then?" I ask.

"I know a place," he says as he starts shoving the power cables and chargers for laptops and phones into a backpack. "It's safe, secluded and easily defendable."

The word defendable makes me feel sick, the connotations of having to defend us from anything makes me sway. I put my head between my knees and try to take deep breaths but it doesn't always help.

He's there then, on his haunches beside me. "Breathe," he tells me softly as he rubs my back. "Just stay with me Ed. I need you to stave this off and stay yourself."

"Who else would I be?" I ask through a rapidly thickening throat.

"Just breathe past it," he begs, rubbing harder. "Everyone's in place and we'll get you both out of here safely I promise. We'll take you to a safe place where you can just rest and hang out with Bella while my team and I get you out from under this threat."

"She'll hate me for doing this to her," I whisper as my body starts to regain some of its control.

"She won't. She'll want you safe too and she's said before she'll do anything I ask of her to make sure you're okay. It just so happens that this time her coming away with us is the safest thing for her too," he says quietly. "I'll fix it, Ed. I swear I'll fix it."

"I trust you," I tell him sincerely as I straighten in the chair.

"Good man," he praises now that I'm more in control. "Go and collect your bags and bring them to the foyer then we'll have something to eat and get moving."

**BPOV**

"Where are we going?" I ask, hand back on my hip.

"You do that a lot," Emmett chuckles as he sets his own bag beside mine in the foyer, then rising to nod at my hand on my hip.

"And that isn't an answer," I shout after him as he goes back down the hall to the office.

"I can't tell you where we're going because that would compromise the security measures I've put in place," he tells me calmly as he sets a briefcase, laptop bag and a backpack by the other bags.

"Who am I going to tell? You've taken my phone and laptop off me!" I shout again as he goes back into the office.

"You won't win," Edward says softly as he comes from the direction of the back of the house.

I look him up and down as he approaches. He's got a backpack slung over one shoulder and his phone in his hand. I haven't seen him all day. He didn't come out of wherever he'd been when I was so rudely removed from my place of work, nor when I'd come back from my broken into house. He hadn't even eaten with us!

Emmett comes back out of the office and sets a cardboard box on the ground before holding out his hand toward Edward. "Thank you," he says with a warm smile once his hand is filled with both cell phone and USB internet stick. "You can both have your phones back once we come back to town," he tells us while he's putting Edward's things into the briefcase.

I notice he locks it, thumbing the tumblers on the combination lock.

"When do I get my laptop back?" I ask.

"After Alice has run an encryption program on it," he tells me simply.

"So after we get back," I huff.

"She's already halfway to where we're going so no, Miss Indignant, it won't be that long," he grins.

"Do you want my iPod too?" I ask, holding it and its headphones out in the palm of my hand.

"Does it have wifi?" he asks.

I close my fingers around it quickly, not expecting the question. "No," I tell him as I slip it back into my pocket.

"Then you may keep it," he says, smiling widely. "And yes, I'm an asshole." Edward sniggers but I'm pissed at him too so I don't say anything. "Right, if we're done with the banter, which I've enjoyed immensely, thank you, we can get on with getting out of here."

He checks his watch, nods to himself and then takes Edward's bags outside to the waiting car. I already know not to go out there until I'm told – I'd been warned by Seth – so I stand off to one side desperately trying to ignore Edward's presence without him knowing I was ignoring him.

"Are you going to talk to me at all?" he asks softly. I shake my head no and hear him sigh.

Emmett comes back, Seth in tow, and together they take the rest of the bags outside.

"It'll be a lonely week if you aren't speaking to me," Edward whispers.

"I'm used to lonely," I mutter back.

"Me too," he says sadly as he shuffles his feet on the tiled floor.

I don't get a chance to reply because Emmett's back and it's time to go.

"Ed you're with me, Bella you're with Seth," he announces as he locks the door behind us and presses a button on his keys to set the alarms.

"We aren't travelling together?" Edward and I both ask at the same time.

Emmett grins, looking between us. "No, we aren't," he says firmly. "So you'll both have time to work all of your truculence out of your systems before we get to our first stop."

"Big word," I hear Edward chuckle behind me.

"What, system?" I gripe as I make my way to the car Seth's sitting in.

**Emmett POV**

The swap over of vehicles in the underground parking lot of Aro's building goes smoothly. I'd had two plain, blacked out SUV's delivered there and it took only a few minutes to transfer all our gear into them and set off again. Leaving the press far behind us, hopefully with no way to track our movements.

I keep an eye on Seth in the vehicle behind as we wind our way through the city and out the other side, heading for the open road.

Two hours into the drive – and two hours of childish silence from my travelling companion – I'd had enough.

I had no earpiece, because I couldn't guarantee that Seth would be close enough at all times to receive, so when I spot the first exit for Beaumont I use handsfree from my cell phone mounted to the dash to call him.

"What's up, boss?" he says as he answers my call.

"We're two miles from the Beaumont exit," I tell him. "The gas station is on the left about another mile after the exit ramp."

"I'll be right behind you, boss," comes his reply.

"We need gas already?" Ed asks, leaning over the console between us to see the gas gauge. They are the first words out of his mouth since we'd set off.

"I need caffeine," I tell him as I indicate to take the exit ramp ahead. I pull into the gas stop and wait until Seth has pulled in beside me before I undo my seatbelt. "Stay here until I give you the nod," I tell my mark as I exit the vehicle and meet Seth on the narrow strip of pavement at the rear of both cars.

"If it wasn't for the radio I'd be going insane," Seth gripes as he stretches his arms above his head.

"Silence is in no way fucking golden," I snipe as I shift my hips from side to side to get rid of some of the stiffness from driving.

"What's the problem between them?" he asks as he bends over at the waist to touch his toes.

"No fucking clue," I huff as I do the same. "In the interests of a much more comfortable next leg we'll get them inside with a coffee each and swap these cars out while they're hopefully sorting their shit out."

"Done," he sighs as he makes his way back to his car.

"Go on in and get a coffee for yourself but stick with Bella and sit in a booth at the back," I tell Ed, handing him a twenty.

"Where will you be?" he asks warily, taking the note from my fingers as he stands down out of the SUV.

I look down at my watch to mark the time before answering. "I'll be right here. We're swapping cars again. You have ten minutes to say what you have to say to her before we head off again. I suggest you use the time wisely."

He stares at me a moment and then nods just once before turning and walking towards the entry doors to the cafe part of the gas station. Seth comes to my side a moment later and we watch as our respective marks sidestep one another to go through the door.

"I gave him ten minutes," I tell Seth.

"I gave her fifteen," he chuckles. "You want coffee?"

"Yeah. A strong one. Black with six sugars. But don't let them stir it, I hate it sweet. Oh, and bring me a chocolate bar or something," I tell him as I dig into my pocket for some change.

"Keep it," he says with a wave of his hand towards mine that now held money. "Six sugars, no stirring, but something sugary to eat, no problem, boss," he laughs as he walks towards the doors.

"Smart ass," I throw at him. He sticks his middle finger up at me, making me laugh harder.

There are two different plain, blacked out SUV's parked up in bays beside the gas station so I drive first mine then Seth's so our current vehicles flank the new ones. I locate the concealed keys under the chassis', open both new vehicles and then start transferring our belongings into them.

**BPOV**

"Would you like a coffee?" Edward asks me in a soft voice as we move towards the counter.

"Please," I reply before turning to look at the inside of the cafe section.

It was clean and cheery despite the darkness outside. I move away from the counter and am about to sit in one of the chairs at a tiny round table when Edward tells me that Emmett would prefer we sit in a booth, at the back.

I nod but say nothing. I'm still so angry at him and his absence. And his complete lack of thought or care for my wellbeing during the day. And that he'd never once asked if my home was still standing, or that its contents were safe and sound, or whether or not I was worried about going back there. And there hadn't been a word from him about this fleeing bullshit. Not a fucking word! And I was pissed that he so easily handed over his phone and usb stick. And, and, well, I was just pissed. Plain and simple, just pissed off.

I say a low thank you for the coffee when he sets it in front of me a moment later but other than that I keep my head down over it and say nothing.

He needed to apologise to me and at the very least he needed to ask if I was alright. Until he did I didn't want to look at him or speak to him.

**EPOV**

With my head down over my coffee I try and try to think of a way to break the ice between us but nothing comes to mind.

It's obvious that she is angry with me but I have no clue what for!

I'd done exactly what Emmett had told me to do. I'd kept out of her way, and his, and had stayed in the library in the back of my house until it was time to leave. I hadn't upset her, or myself, all day, and Emmett had praised me for that, so whatever her problem was I was in the dark about it.

I steal a glance at my watch and see that we only have two minutes of the allotted ten that Emmett has given us and it was unlikely that I was going to be able to solve whatever issue now stood between us, so I gulp at my awful coffee in its horrible, cardboard cup and keep my mouth shut in case I make things worse by saying the wrong thing.

**BPOV**

With no apology forthcoming I swig the last dregs of the horrible coffee and crush the stupid cardboard cup between my fingers as I stand from the booth.

He does the same, not the crushing but the standing, and we move towards the doors side by side.

He holds the door open for me, I nod my thank you, and we walk to our respective bodyguards in silence.

"Ready to go?" Seth asks, looking first at me and then at Edward who nods but says nothing when Emmett asks the same thing. "Right then, let's get going," Seth announces as he opens the passenger door of the enormous SUV for me.

I watch in the side mirror as he and Emmett meet behind the car. I can't hear what's said between them with the door shut but the grim set to Seth's lips tells me he isn't amused.

And that's just a giant case of stiff shit for him I think as I sink back into the heated leather seat and close my eyes.

**EPOV **

"Did you talk to her?" Emmett asks as he turns out onto the highway again.

"She didn't want to talk," I mumble.

"Did you ask if she wanted to, or are you assuming she didn't want to?"

"What's the difference? She said nothing so I said nothing."

"Bloody hell," he grumbles. "What did you do to piss her off in the first place?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Jesus Christ," he mutters but says nothing more to shed any light on the problem.

I sink back in my seat, adjust the heating so the leather heats up toasty warm and turn on the radio to a calming country station.

I flick the station now and then but stay with mostly country. I find it soothing and the words more meaningful than some of the heavier rock and roll on the other stations. Plus, I didn't feel like talking so the softer, warbling tales the singers spun filled in the gaps where conversation would've normally been.

A couple hours later Emmett presses Seth's number on his phone again and I sigh in relief. I need relief from the coffee I'd had at the last stop and hoped he was going to tell Seth we were heading for another gas station.

"I'm pulling off the highway into Quartzite," he tells our other travelling companion. "It's the last stop before we head north east and we'll both need to get gas."

"I need to stretch my legs in a bad way," comes Seth's reply.

A few minutes later we pull into another tiny gas station in another tiny town. I wait for Seth to pull his vehicle up alongside, and for Emmett to meet with him to assess the surrounds, before I undo my seatbelt and head for the nearest restroom.

**Emmett POV **

I remind Ed that we won't be stopping long, to stick to a back booth and to try talking to Bella again before he heads off into the store. I start refilling our vehicle. Beside me, in the next bay over, Seth does the same with his mark.

I slide my credit card through the slot to pay once the car's tank is full and wait for Seth to finish up too. We both drive our respective cars to the parking area and then walk back so we can keep an eyeball on our charges while they sip coffee.

"IPods are the most antisocial invention this century," he gripes as we stop by the windows to wait.

"At least you didn't have to listen to country for the last two hours," I hiss back. "I swear to god, if I have to listen to one more crooning, whining cowboy wail about his lost love, dog, horse, job or beloved truck I'm going to break the cardinal rule of bodyguards and kill my mark myself!"

He chuckles but doesn't disagree with my assessment of the situation in my car. "It's still gotta be better than an intermittent, off key mumbled version of some song you can't hear and can't place," he moans dramatically.

"If they come out of there still silent I'm getting that Schmidt rifle out of the trunk and finding the nearest clock tower," I chuckle, not altogether joking.

"I'll help you reload," he chuckles and I doubt he's joking either. "What is the actual problem do you know? Bella won't say shit."

"Not a fucking clue, and Ed doesn't know either," I reply as I crane my neck to relieve some tension.

"Gonna be a great week if those two are pissed at each other the whole time," he chuckles darkly.

I think about that for a second and cringe at the thought. "I'll fix it," I announce. "If they're still not playing nicely by the time we get there I'll step in and fix it."

"You sure you can? Without spilled blood I mean?" he laughs.

"Watch me," I laugh back, clapping him on the shoulder hard. "I might not know what the problem is but I sure as shit know how to get them to at least talk to one another."

"If you say so, Yoda," he grins.

"Go and call Garrett and give him our ETA. I'll watch this pair," I tell him.

"On it, boss," he tells me, switching back to serious business mode easily.

While he dials my brother I dial Aro, keeping one eye on the pair sipping their coffees in the booth.

"_I made a fool of myself for you, McCarty," _Aro says the instant the call connects.

"Not for me," I remind him with a chuckle. "You did it for twelve percent, you slut."

"_Sluts do it for free, I do it for money. Technically that makes me a prostitute," _he chuckles back.

"You agents are all about the technicalities," I laugh.

"_And your dirty work is done. It'll be all over the papers tomorrow that your mark had to flit away to a family emergency. He'll come off looking like a caring, concerned family man and I'll be able to squeeze another few grand out of his name next time a sponsor wants him to promote something family oriented. All round I think we all did well." _

"Sounds good. Any mention of Bella?" I ask.

"_The usual speculation. Are they an item? Are they living together? Is she pregnant? The usual tripe," _he says. "_Rest assured that their friendship was reiterated, firmly, as was their request for a right to privacy while they conduct that long standing friendship."_

"Excellent," I agree. "Just keep flogging that line and I'll call again in a few days."

"_You do that," _he insists. "_And don't forget to give my best to your mother."_

I hang up still chuckling over the creepy bastard ogling my mom.

**EPOV **

The last leg of the trip is silent, still. Emmett doesn't ask if I managed to get Bella talking and I worry that he no longer cares.

I hadn't gotten her to talk to me. We'd just sat opposite one another and drank our coffee in total silence, again. It was frustrating and scary because I really had no clue what to do or say to make things right because I had no idea what the problem was. But she had a problem, that much was evident.

So I sat in the car with Emmett in silence – with not even the radio to take my mind off things as we were too far away from civilisation to get any decent reception – and thought about Bella's iPod. At least she had that. If we were travelling together, and if she was speaking to me or willing to even look me in the eye, we might have been able to cuddle close in the backseat and share an earbud each. But we weren't, she wasn't and we couldn't.

After leaving the last gas station it's a solid hour of highway driving with nothing to see on either side of the road until we finally take a turning. After twenty miles or so the road narrows and it's down to just one lane in either direction as we approach another small town.

The sign says Prescott but its nowhere I've ever heard of.

We go through the main street at a crawl, feeling all the slower for having been able to speed along the highways up til then. Emmett calls Seth again and gives him the name of the street he'll be looking for, in case they get separated by traffic in town.

I look out the window and think it is a hollow concern. The place is dead. Not a car in sight, or a living being either for that matter. All the stores are locked up tight and not one of them has a light on as we go by.

Em turns down what looks like any other suburban street and then pulls into the driveway of what could've been any other suburban home.

"Tilt your seat back, keep your head down and stay put," he tells me matter of factly as he disengages his seatbelt and gets out.

He doesn't wait for my reply, or even my agreement, but then he knows I'll do as I'm told. Which I do. The only sign that we're not alone is the telltale headlights that pull in behind us, illuminating the cabin of the car a little before they too are switched off.

I feel like a hostage rather than a mark.

I hear voices, but only just, and then there's a tap on my window before the door opens.

"Come inside while Seth and I switch out the bags," Emmett tells me as I step down. "Garrett this is Edward Cullen. Ed, this is my brother Garrett," he says as I come face to face with a clone of my bodyguard.

"Good to meet you, Edward," Garrett says, stepping forward and offering me his hand.

"Call me Ed, and it's good to meet you too," I reply and offer my own hand.

"Go on in," he says, tossing his head in the direction of the open front door.

I look over my shoulder and see Bella stepping down out of the other vehicle but Emmett barks at me to get inside, so I don't wait for her. I watch though. Through the glass by the side of the front door as Garrett shakes her hand. She smiles widely for him and he throws his head back and laughs at whatever she's said, making her smile even wider. I hate him.

He points to the door and then she too comes inside.

"He seems nice," she says quietly as she stands on the other side of the door, watching through the glass just like I am.

"If you say so," I mutter, hoping it's too low for her to catch.

For once I'm in luck because she doesn't reply and doesn't react. She just stares out the glass watching the three guys transfer all our things from car to car. When it's all moved Emmett comes to the door, tapping on the glass by my nose before coming inside.

"We're good to go," he tells us. "I want you both to keep your heads down below the level of the dash in the new cars as we drive out of town but once we hit the mountain road you can sit back up again. I know it'll be cramped and it'll suck, but it's what I need you to do, okay?"

"Okay," I readily agree. I'm all good doing what he tells me to do.

"Whatever," Bella huffs though.

Em ignores her comment and holds the door open for us to go through. He gets me into the new car, which is smaller than the last one but not too much smaller that I can't sink below dash level easily, then calls out to Garrett that he'll see him in a little while.

Em apologises for the jolt as he goes over the sidewalk and out onto the road and again when he swings the car harshly around a bend.

"Two more minutes and you can sit up," he warns a few minutes later. "Okay, up you come," he chuckles at last.

I crane my neck and flap my arms around to get the blood flowing again and he apologises once more for making me do that.

"Its okay, Em. I trust your judgement," I tell him sincerely. "Can I know where we're going yet?"

"We're going to my house," he says matter of factly.

"I didn't know you had a house?"

"You didn't know I had a brother either, did ya?" he chuckles.

"No, I didn't. And I'm sorry I never asked."

"Don't be. I probably wouldn't have told you anyway," he laughs.

"If your brother lives here does that mean this is where you're from?" I ask.

"Yeah," he sighs. "I grew up here. Went to school here too. In town I mean. My place is up on the mountain but it's not far. Only another ten minutes or so."

"I won't say I'm not pleased its close," I laugh.

"Yeah, long day," he agrees. "Jasper and Alice are there already so that's the other car you'll see when we pull in. Wait till he comes out and tells us its safe then you can go right in, okay?"

"Okay."

He reaches for his phone, there's no holder on the dashboard in this car for it, and asks me to dial Seth and set it to speaker for him.

"What's up, boss?" is Seth's standard answer when the call connects.

"Another mile and we'll slow right down," Em tells him. "It's all hairpin bends from there. There's no marker for the property so I go by distance. When I say set your trip meter to zero and we'll go one point six miles further along. Stay close, I'll indicate well before the turn."

"Got it, boss."

"Don't end the call so he can hear me," Emmett tells me.

He hadn't been kidding about the bends. We're climbing pretty steadily up a mountain range and the corners come thick and fast, with barely any straight stretches between them. I stay quiet while Em navigates them.

"Two one eighties in a row here," he tells Seth a minute later. "Take this one in second," he suggests another minute later, shifting down a gear himself. "Set your trip meter now," comes the command and Seth says he's done it a second later.

I watch the trip meter tick over and when it gets to one point five miles Em puts his right blinker on. I look behind me and Seth slows, his headlights shrinking away from the back of our car steadily. It's a well synchronised effort.

We turn into what looks like a dirt road but quickly turns into the look of a driveway with trees lining it as we go along slowly. He pulls up next to a beige sedan and as soon as he's cut the engine a light comes on and I can see the house.

It is, well, average. It stretches for the width of the drive and is two storeys high but other than that it is completely unremarkable. It is beautiful in its normalness compared to some of the monstrosities in LA.

Jasper steps out onto the porch and waves down at us.

"Come on," Em tells me as he opens his door. "It's safe here," he adds.

I step down onto the gravel and look to my left. Bella's stepping down out of the other vehicle, staring up at the house just like I'd done.

"Good trip?" I hear Emmett ask Jasper as they shake hands on the porch.

"No problem," Jasper reports. "How was yours?"

"Very quiet," Em chuckles. He runs back down the short steps and opens the rear of the car. "Just grab your backpack, I'll bring the rest in soon," he tells me, handing me the bag. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

Seth's handing Bella her backpack as I go up the steps behind Em.

I walk into an open plan living area that is spotlessly clean and very cosy compared to my modern digs in the city. There are cushion covered sofas and throw rugs everywhere as well as photos in frames on the mantle over a real fireplace. There's even logs stacked in it ready to be lit.

"This is brilliant," I shout, having lost sight of him while I'd been looking around.

"To your right, up the stairs," he shouts back as Seth and Bella come through the door too.

"He said we could put our stuff upstairs," I nod to Seth, motioning the way to the staircase that is tucked into the far back corner of the living room.

"Up we go then," he says cheerily, nudging Bella ahead of him but behind me on the stairs.

Emmett sticks his head out of a door at the top of the stairs. "This is my room," he says with a flick of his head. "Seth's bunking in with me and Alice and Jasper are at the other end of the hall," he says as he comes out of his room to let Seth pass with his bags. "This will be yours," he says, stopping by the middle door along the short hall.

I go inside and find a double bed, a dresser and a small table and chairs under a huge picture window that had its drapes drawn.

"Thanks," I tell him as I go by him and into the room.

"What about me?" I hear Bella ask as I dump my bags onto the floor by the dresser.

"You too," I hear him say and turn to see where he's sending her in relation to where I'm staying.

"Oh tell me you're kidding?" she barks as I turn.

**BPOV**

"I'll bunk in with Alice and Jasper can share with him," I half whisper half hiss at Emmett, nodding towards Edward who's got his mouth hanging open like a goldfish.

"It's in here or you can stay in the barn out back. There's no heat or electricity in the main part and the office is tiny, there's no running water either but if you want you can stay out there. You'll have to wait till morning for me to shift the hay bales and get the cows out, but you're welcome to it, of course. Hayday isn't just a game up here," he grins at me.

I glare at him but his grin doesn't shift. "I'll bunk in with you then," I say firmly, hand on hip again.

"No can do," he tells me, his grin now smug. "Seth and I will bunk together at that end, Jasper and Alice at that end and you two will be right in the middle where we can protect you. That's what we're here for after all."

"You're an asshole, Em," I seethe as I go into the room and throw my backpack on the floor beside the bed angrily.

"Nobody will get by any of us to get to you so you can call me whatever you like," he says with a grin. "Now, there's just this one shared bathroom up here and it's through that door there," he points to the door directly opposite the room we're standing in. "That'll be yours. There's an ensuite one in my room and one more shared one downstairs by the laundry room so each pair will have to share, but there's unlimited hot water and good pressure so we should be fine as long as everyone plays nicely.

"Unpack your stuff or have a shower or whatever you want to do and I'll go get the rest of the gear. I'll put the kettle on so feel free to make coffee or whatever you want. Garrett's going to be coming up soon with all the food and what not so I'll be waiting up for him, but if you want to turn in go ahead, I'll show you around properly in the morning."

"Thanks Em," Edward the traitor says brightly as he drags his bag up onto the bed and unzips it.

"Yeah, thanks Em," I drawl sarcastically.

"My pleasure. Welcome to my home," he chuckles, bowing at the waist. "Play nice," he whispers to me before he turns to leave the room.

**EPOV**

Bella turns her back so she can kick her backpack and I look up at Em, wanting to covertly tell him thank you for making it so that we had to share. I catch his wink and then he's gone so I've got no chance, but I make a mental note to thank him in the morning.

"Top or bottom?" Bella asks, snapping me out of my musing.

"Sorry?"

"Top or bottom drawers?" she asks, nodding to the dresser.

"Oh, I don't mind."

"Bottom for you then," she says as she starts piling the contents of her backpack into the top drawers.

I hadn't actually planned to unpack. I was used to living out of a bag and figured I'd just leave my bag on the floor when Em brought it upstairs later. With nothing else to do I take my script out of my backpack and set it on the bedside cabinet. That was me unpacked.

She's still sorting out things from her backpack and it's obvious she's ignoring me so I start to feel uncomfortable just standing there with nothing to do.

"I'll check out the bathroom," I tell her as I cross the room and go across the hall.

It's small, tiny really, but again it's spotlessly clean. There's a small shower stall, a tub along the same wall as the shower and a toilet and basin on the opposite wall.

I go back into the room to see Bella sitting on the edge of the bed staring into space. I decide that coffee is the better option, rather than trying to get her to talk to me, so I back out of the room and head downstairs.

Our bags are all standing by the front door. I hear noises coming from the back of the large space and head that way.

I find Em standing in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open, staring into it. Seth's setting out mugs and opening a can of coffee by the sink. Alice is cutting slices off a packaged chocolate cake and Jasper is hunting through cabinets, probably for plates.

"All ok?" Em asks as I enter the room.

"Yeah," I shrug. "This place is great," I tell him, looking over my shoulder at the living room again. "Do the fireplaces work?"

"Yep," he says proudly. "It gets pretty cold up here at night so they were the first things I fixed when I bought the place. Those and the plumbing, which was pretty old."

"Well I think it's fantastic," I tell him sincerely.

Headlights break the darkness outside at the same time that a shrill alarm sounds somewhere close by.

"That's Garrett," Em tells me. "Nobody comes onto the property without tripping some kind of alarm so let's get that protocol set up right from the off. If you hear that alarm I want you to go upstairs and wait for me to give the okay for you to come down again, alright?"

"Sure," I tell him. "How can you be sure its Garrett though?" I ask.

"Look," he says, pointing to what I thought was a small flat screen television perched on an old fashioned sideboard in the dining room part of the space. "There're live feeds from the road, the side gates that open out into pasture and another feed from by the barn out the back. Nobody can come at us here without me knowing who and how, I promise."

I watch the monitor, now that I know what it is, and see Em's brother getting out of the driver's side of yet another black SUV.

"You're safe here," Seth tells me, clapping me on the shoulder as he goes past me and towards the front door.

"You really are," Emmett agrees with a raise of his eyebrows at me.

"Okay," I agree. "Thank you for having us here, in your home."

"My pleasure, Ed," he says, smiling widely before going out the front door to help his brother unload yet another car.

"How are you Edward?" Alice asks across the counter.

"I'm okay. It's nice to see you again Alice," I tell her. "And thanks for coming all this way for us."

"No problem. We'll get this sorted out, I promise."

"Thanks," I tell her.

Seth comes and goes a couple times through the front door with bags of food and some electrical equipment and I offer to help but he says he'd prefer that I stay inside, out of sight.

"Well come on in, Seth's got the coffee on," Em shouts over his shoulder at his brother as he comes through the living space, heading back to the kitchen.

Bella wanders in a few minutes later and sits on the stool next to me. She doesn't address me, or even acknowledge my presence in any way. Emmett introduces her to Alice and then starts handing out mugs of coffee and passing around the plate of cake slices.

Jasper, Seth, Emmett and Garrett make two more trips to the cars before they are empty and then we're all invited to go into the living room area with our drinks.

There's plenty of room for everyone but I notice that Bella picks a seat as far as possible away from me. I end up sitting on my own in an armchair close to the now lit fireplace.

The guys talk a little about the drive, about the cars we'd swapped into and out of along the way and about how they'd managed to get both Bella and I out of Los Angeles without the press realising they'd been duped.

The conversation turns to more general topics and pretty soon we're treated to the squabbling of the two brothers as they regale the group with the teenage pranks and high jinks achieved in and around the town we were now staying in.

I sit in my armchair quietly. I have nothing to add. I don't have friends, I don't have any siblings and I have no memories of being a teenager or even any younger than the time before Emmett came to me. I feel my mood slowly slipping lower and lower as the talk gets louder and louder and the rest of the group chimes in with their own recollections of what they remember of their best years.

Bella doesn't look my way or ask or tell me anything the whole time the group interacts and I feel more isolated in this room full of people than I had through all of the day when I'd been made to stay by myself in my library at home.

The clock over the mantle reads nearly two in the morning and I've had enough so I excuse myself quietly. I grab my bag by the door and head upstairs on my own. Nobody questions me or follows me. I use the bathroom, brush my teeth and then slip between the cold, crisp sheets on Emmett's guest bed.

I close my eyes knowing that sleep wouldn't be hard to find that night. Over six hours in a car after a very stressful day saw me drifting off in minutes, thankfully leaving behind the image and sounds of the group downstairs having such a great time together.

**BPOV**

At three in the morning Emmett suggests everyone gets some sleep and I find myself yawning at the mere idea. The group splits apart quickly as coffee mugs are dumped into the sink to be dealt with in the morning.

Alice and Jasper head upstairs after wishing the rest of us a good sleep. Seth goes up right after and Emmett and Garrett insist on me going up to bed too while they unload more 'gear' from Garrett's car.

I wish them a good night, grab my duffel bag and head up the stairs. I slip into the bathroom opposite my room. I do my business quickly and as quietly as I can and then creep into the bedroom to find Edward asleep and snoring softly on his side of the bed.

He looks so young, so peaceful in his slumber and I try my best not to disturb him as I shuck my clothes, pull on an old t-shirt and slide carefully into the bed beside him.

I'm spent both mentally and physically after a very long, very stressful day, so I welcome the calm black of the dark room as sleep claims me.

I wake with a jolt, Edward crying in his sleep beside me, tears cascading down his cheeks and sliding over the bridge of his nose because he's lying on his side facing me.

I brush his hair back and rub my thumb over his cheek to dispel the wetness there, cooing softly that he's alright, that everything's alright, and it seems to calm him enough to fall back to sleep.

The next time I wake he's sitting up, his face as white as the sheet he's clutching in his grasping fingers. He's bitten his bottom lip and made it bleed, the telltale drips still clinging to the little bit of pale gold stubble on his chin.

"Hey, it's okay," I whisper to him, settling my hand on his thigh over the sheet.

"Blood," he moans, his eyes closed.

"You've bitten your lip," I whisper in the little bit of light from the rising sun outside. I reach into my backpack that's still on the floor beside the bed and take out the little pack of travel tissues I keep in the front pocket. I wipe his lip and show him the little smear on it. "See?" I ask as he looks down at it.

"I could taste it, smell it," he moans, closing his eyes again.

"It's okay," I tell him gently, tugging the sheet out of his grasp. "You're alright. I'm here," I tell him softly. "Let's try and get a little more sleep hey?"

"Yeah," he sighs as he slips down the bed and lets me pull the sheet up and over his shoulder as he turns his back to me.

I wake later to the sound of activity in the house. Edward's still asleep beside me but he's facing me now, his face calm and serene. I push his hair back from his eyes and watch him sleep for a little bit before my bladder can wait no longer for me to get up.

I try not to jostle him as I get out of the bed and apart from him groaning just a little and rolling over I think I've done a pretty good job. I pull on some sweats, grab a change of clothes and head across the hall to the bathroom as quietly as I can.

Emmett wasn't lying about the hot water or the pressure, it's divine and I stand under the hot spray longer than I normally would at my own house. I wash and rinse my hair twice and take my time soaping myself up so the hot water can do its thing to my slightly aching body.

Broken sleep does not agree with me and neither does six hours in a car I think as I pull on jeans and a t-shirt before hanging my towel on the rod under the window.

I throw my dirty clothes on the floor by the dresser once I'm back in our room and pull the door to it closed behind me when I leave. I tip toe down the hall and down the stairs and find the others in the kitchen drinking coffee and taking slices of toast off a heaped platter on the counter between them.

"Morning," I grumble as I take the mug I'd used the night before from the draining rack by the sink.

"That's a fresh pot," Seth tells me as I eye the ancient coffee machine.

"Thank the caffeine gods," I sigh as I pour a cup.

"No need to ask how you slept huh?" Emmett asks as he puts an arm over my shoulders. I shake my head by way of an answer and sip from my cup gratefully. "There's plenty of toast and cereal if you want. Go out on the back deck in the sun if you feel like it, but don't go any further down the yard than the barn or you'll trip the alarms," he tells me as he heads towards the stairs.

"It's nice out there," Alice tells me, nodding towards the double glass doors that led out onto a little deck. "Garrett bought yesterdays paper with him. It's on the table out there."

"Thanks," I mumble, still not a morning person no matter how much I wanted to will myself to be.

I go out onto the deck and plonk down into one of the chairs there. I cradle my coffee in my palms and stare down the yard towards the paddocks at the very back. There are cows lined up against the fence and sheep in a field to the left.

Apart from their sounds it's very quiet and very nice in the sun.

**EPOV **

I wake up with a start. I'm not in my own room. I'm cold. But I don't have a thumping headache, just a regular one.

I look around the room and remember that I'm at Emmett's house, though I still have no idea of the actual geographic location of said house. Bella's not in the room and her side of the bed is cold.

I have no clue what day it is or what the time is.

What I do have is a bottom lip that's stinging and a bladder that's about to explode.

I pull on the jeans I'd travelled in the night before and pad across the hall to the bathroom. The shower is hot and soothing to my sore body and I find myself standing under it until my skin prunes.

I shave as best I can with my shaking hands and pack everything back into my wet pack before leaving the room as I found it.

I pull on clean jeans and a jersey and roll my dirty clothes up in a ball before I remake the bed making sure to tuck the corners in tightly before pulling up the blankets.

The house is virtually silent when I get downstairs and for half a second I allow myself to panic that I've been abandoned. But there's still a pot of hot coffee in the machine and a few slices of recently made toast on a plate on the counter and I know that the others are somewhere near.

I stand at the kitchen window and stare down the expanse of the backyard. It's sunny and I can see clear to a back fence where a line of cows are munching on bundles of something green.

A brown head of hair sits below the window in front of me and I lean over a little to see who it is. The long, slim jean clad legs tell me it's Bella so I take my mug outside and join her.

"Hey," I mumble, wondering whether she'll acknowledge me this morning.

"Hey," she mumbles back as I take a seat in a deck chair beside her.

"Where is everyone?"

"Alice and Jasper are doing something for Em downstairs, though I'm not sure where downstairs is. Seth went to town to collect Garrett and they're doing something for Em there. Though I'm not sure where town is from here. And Emmett's down at the barn there," she says.

I look out over the lawn but I can't see Emmett, just the barn. "Do you think those cows are his?" I ask, nodding towards the back fence.

"No clue."

We sit in silence for a bit and it's the awkward kind. She's answered my questions but she's not offered anything else. The prospect of a whole week of feeling this way sits uneasily in my gut.

"Did you punch me in the middle of the night?" I ask as seriously as I can.

"No! God, why would you think I did?" she asks in a rush, turning to face me for the first time in twenty four hours.

"I've got a busted lip, a headache and you're plenty pissed at me," I tell her with a straight face. I see hers wobble and worry that I've gone too far and she's about to cry. "I'm kidding," I assure her as I reach out between us and take her hand in mine, pulling it towards my lap.

"You were upset in your sleep," she whispers, unable to meet my eyes but she's not turned away from me either so I count it as a win. "When I woke up you'd bitten your lip and it was bleeding. I'll get you something for your headache," she announces, pulling her hand away and rushing back inside.

"I can get it myself," I mutter under my breath but she's already gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading. **

**Please review. **


	13. Chapter 13

**EPOV**

My first day in captivity is a quiet one.

Emmett gave Bella and I a quick tour of the house, showed us where everything was that we'd need, and then disappeared to 'work on our little problem'. Where he disappeared to had me beat. Where Alice and Jasper were working from had me beat too. They weren't in any of the rooms we'd been shown and there weren't any other rooms that I could see.

I didn't bother asking Em where they were because if he wanted me to know he'd tell me.

Bella didn't ask either. She was distant and silent and apart from showing a little concern at me having a headache early on she didn't show any interest in the tour or me.

She went off to collect her novel and took it out onto the back deck to read in the sun so I was at a loose end. That wasn't unusual for me. Things tended to get done around me, they very rarely involved me in any way, so I was used to having to amuse myself.

I dig the script for the next instalment of the Mission series out of my backpack, along with my battered pack of cigarettes, and go to find a quiet spot to work in.

I want to sit in the sun but I don't want to push Bella's buttons – not that I knew what they were. I don't want to sit in the living room either because the open plan of the house meant anyone coming or going would walk right through there and I'd be caught making stupid practise facial expressions or worse, practicing my vocal exercises.

If I stay indoors I can't smoke and if I go outside Bella will hear or see me.

That leaves just one option. The barn.

Emmett had already told me that it was safe to be in there as it too was wired with alarms and the video feed also stretched out there, so I grab a bottle of water, make sure I have my lighter, and head outside.

Bella didn't move or speak as I pass by her on the way down the yard. I didn't know if she watched me move across the lawn and I didn't want to turn around to check. She was still pissed at me and the silence was now deafening.

I set my things down on the ground by the small side door Emmett had said was there and lean against the bright red painted wall to enjoy a smoke. I didn't do it often, it wasn't good for my health or my speaking voice, but I _was_ technically on vacation between shoots so one or two here and there wouldn't make any difference to the continuity people right now.

It burns my nose as I inhale but it is a good burn. A burn that feels like a return to a small piece of who I am at heart. Bella had made mention that years ago, long before Emmett came to work for me, that I liked to smoke, and so as I stood there, face turned to the sun and enjoying that cigarette, I felt a little more like who I should be.

It's over far too soon of course. I debate lighting another and decide against it. I'm not sure whether Emmett would or could indulge my need to buy more if I use up my meagre stash. I count only eight more in the pack so I resolve to eke them out and make them last for the length of my confinement.

Collecting my things I go into the barn proper. It's dark, cold and smells of fresh cut grass and cow. The cows themselves are out in the paddocks munching away so I don't have to worry about being trampled as I go inside to check out the space.

What I hadn't counted on was stepping on their leavings, which I did, twice, before I got smart and found the switch for the overhead banked lighting. Then I tiptoe across the hay strewn floor more safely.

The barn is just one large, open space with small squares cordoned off for the cows at night. A central corridor runs down the centre and as I move down it I can see that it opens out into an open space against the back wall. Its piled high with bales of hay that step down from the tallest stack to just a single row at the front. It's perfect for what I need so I set down my bottle of water on the ground in front of the stack, sit down on the bottom row and lean back against the second.

Its quiet, well lit from the overhead lights and best of all its private.

I open my script at the very first page and begin to read aloud, happy with my surrounds and confident I can use my week as a hostage productively.

**BPOV**

I watch him walk down the yard behind the cover of my sunglasses. His gate isn't at all confident but he is an imposing figure to me all the same. Lean, lanky, tall and with his copper hair shining in the sun he's as beautiful to me as ever.

But I'm still pissed at him and getting madder by the minute because he has no clue why I'm mad and I'm too stubborn – and too pissed – to explain it to him. His apology if I did would be hollow.

So I stay quiet in my deck chair and watch him walk down the yard towards the barn. He's got a bottle of water and a wad of paper and I'm dying to know what he's going to do down there.

I am bored already. My novel is fine, but not great. Not when I had unfettered access to Edward and we could've been using the time to get to know one another again. But I was pissed, we weren't speaking, and he was slinking off to the barn to do something on his own.

A few minutes after he's passed by me I see the telltale wisp of smoke coming from around the side of the structure and then I know he's out there smoking. I'd wondered if he still did that but hadn't seen him do it myself as yet. Seems he did.

Lights come on in the barn though its sheer luck that I'm looking at the window when they do. With the sun out I'd have missed the subtle change inside the barn if I hadn't been looking, but I had. And if I was honest with myself I was desperate to see him, and talk to him, and maybe just to be near him.

But I want a sincere apology first. And I hadn't gotten one yet, so I had to be content with the glimpses of him I got surreptitiously.

I open my novel and find where I'd left off while consoling myself with the knowledge that we had to share a bed at night and if nothing else I could be close to him then. I just had to be patient and wait for the sun to go down.

**Emmett POV**

"Right, what have you got for me?" I ask Alice, nodding towards Bella's laptop.

"I have no clue what it is you wanted me to look for but that girl could use a life," she huffs, handing me a printed page. "She's visited pretty standard webpage's for the line of work she's in. She was on Facebook for a fair while yesterday but I think you told me you'd asked her to track down current contact information for former employees so that gels.

"Her emails are pretty innocuous. Actually they're pretty boring. She's stolen a bit of music, but who hasn't? No porn. No terrorist sympathy websites. No antigovernment forums. She doesn't even visit Ed's fan pages.

"She subscribes to a few screensaver dot coms, which have an awful lot of cute and fluffy things to romp across your screen, and there are a couple of bookmarked recipes as well. But other than that it's pretty neat and tidy, boss," she tells me as I read the same things from the page.

"And her list of contacts?" I ask, "Any names on that that also appear on any of the lists I've given you?"

"Not a one," Alice confirms.

I'm relieved. The deeper we dug into Bella's activities the less and less likely it looked that she had anything to do with the current threat to my mark. As it was I'd had a hard time treating her as a suspect because there just wasn't anything in it for her to hurt him that I could see. She stood to gain nothing. She hadn't asked for anything, hadn't inserted herself insidiously into Ed's life and she hadn't tried to extract any information from any of us that could've been used to escalate a threat.

Add to that that she was also being threatened and the chances of her being the 'one' were even slimmer.

"Do you have a call list from her cell phone?" I ask Alice, putting the printed page back on the stack on the table in front of her. She hands me another printed page that's covered in columns of numbers all cross referenced with names and addresses. "Any of these numbers match any of the other lists?"

"Again, not a one," Alice confirms.

"Go ahead and cross her off," I tell her happily. "She's not behind this. And if she is there's no evidence to support that. I'm happy to cross her off."

"Awesome," Alice trills. "I _told_ you she was a good girl."

"Yeah, you called it," I concede. "But you know I have to check. Right, with Bella off our list who are we left with?"

"Tanya, the ex husband and me," Jasper replies over Alice.

"You know you have to be on that list," I remind him.

"I know, I'm just telling it like it is," he replies.

My estimation of him goes up another notch because he doesn't seem to be offended that he's a suspect. He's simply doing his job.

"Do you have the call log from his phone?" I ask Alice who has it in her hand already.

"He was with you when the call was made to Bella's office, again when the letter was delivered to the hotel and he was with me when Bella's house was broken in to and the call made from her home phone to your mark. You know it's not him boss," she pleads on his behalf.

"And you know I have to check," I remind her as I read. "You call your mother twice a week for an hour at a time?" I ask of Jasper.

"She's seventy one man. If I don't call her she forgets who I am," he shrugs.

"I wasn't judging you, I'm impressed," I tell him truthfully. "I should call my mom more often."

"You should," he says firmly though he never lifts his eyes from the screen he's working at. "A couple more hours and this program will start printing out Tanya's employee list."

"I want that list," I mutter to myself. "Keep working on it," I tell Jasper and then turn to Alice. "Is your research into Bella finished?"

"Yes boss," she says happily, and pretty smugly. "There's nothing else to learn about her. She's pristine."

"I'm pleased about that too, Alice," I assure her. "So, next I need you to find me as much information as you can about Jake Black. I want to know everything. Tanya was my first guess but parts of this reeks of disgruntled ex husband to me. He's the only one who'd feel the need to threaten them both. Tanya would've threatened Bella alone. The ex husband would threaten them both. Find out if I'm right."

"On it, boss," she chirps as her fingers begin flying over the keys of the laptop.

"There isn't a single fucking name on any other list that matches any of the other lists. I hate not knowing who I'm dealing with," I gripe as I stare at the mass of pages on the table top.

"We'll find the link," Alice says far more confidently than I feel about the situation. "Can I give Bella her laptop back now?"

"No, I want her bored out of her tree," I tell her.

"Why would you want that?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Because I'm sick of them skirting around each other. If they're going to date, or whatever it is that they're doing, then I need them to be a strong, single unit. I need them to start behaving like a team and they can't do that if they're both happily working independently."

"Then you might want to step up your game," Jasper chuckles, pointing to the top left hand corner of the surveillance monitor.

Bella was sitting in a deck chair reading a novel and in the next frame I can see Ed in the barn, one hand outstretched the other holding his script.

"Give me audio."

"_I was trained by the best and I've trained the rest. My mission objective is clear. You will tell me where the diamonds are or you'll face my wrath," _Ed says stiltedly.

"It's a work in progress," I tell the two snickering assholes with me. "Come time to shoot it and he'll be word perfect, intonation perfect and he'll have the hand gestures down pat. Mark my words," I tell them firmly.

Jasper holds up his hands, "I believe you! I've seen all his films. He's fucking brilliant in them."

"I liked the second one best," Alice giggles. "What?" she says when Jasper elbows her in the side. "He's got a great ass and I'm allowed to look," she huffs.

"Just look," Jasper huffs back as he puts his head back over his keyboard.

"Play nicely children," I mock warn them as I head for the door. "I think I _will_ step up my game," I chuckle for Jasper's benefit, "and I think I know just how to go about it."

"He's evil," I hear Alice whisper right before the door shuts behind me.

"I am a bit," I laugh as I go up the narrow staircase. "Keep working on those lists, I've got some calls to make."

**BPOV **

I hear someone moving around in the kitchen and decide that my novel is just boring enough to be put down for a bit. I wander inside, after shooting another scowl in the direction of the barn, and hear Em on the phone.

"Well, keep a lid on it," Emmett is saying to whoever is on the line. "She can say whatever she likes, it's a free country."

He sees me then and holds a finger up to let me know he needs to finish this call before he can talk to me and I can see the ...maybe its fear, maybe its self consciousness, maybe it's something else I can't name, but it's there in his eyes as he listens.

"That's up to you, Aro. Either comment and set the record straight or don't. It won't make a dent either way and we both know it," Emmett huffs. He listens again for a few seconds and then huffs again. "They'll clamour for information whether it's true or not now. The flood gates have been opened. Do your best."

He ends the call with a very brief and curt goodbye and then he's all smiles for me.

"Problem?" I ask, wondering if he'll tell me the truth that I can hear for myself in his voice as he'd had that conversation.

"The press," he shrugs. And to him he probably thinks he's pulled off nonchalant but he's not an actor, not in the least.

"The 'she' you referred to?" I ask as I cross the living room and sit on the edge of one of the armchairs.

"Isn't a problem," he says noncommittally as he tosses his cell phone from hand to hand.

I eye him carefully before I speak next. "I know you remember the conversation you and I had after I found the bug in my office, Em," I tell him firmly. He winces, tries to hide it, but he's not quick enough. "Yeah, you remember it," I chuckle darkly. "So I'm going to trust you, and the promise you made to me that day." I know he remembers the wording, Em didn't forget details.

He thinks on it, nods his head just once and then he's gone. Out the front door, down those few shallow steps and striding towards the front of the yard, punching a number into his cell phone as he goes.

Something was up and I'd called him on it. Reminded him that he'd promised to keep me in the loop with regard to my safety. And he'd nodded, so he knew what I'd been referring to. So what was going on in the city either had nothing to do with me or wasn't anything to do with safety at all.

He'd been talking to Aro so there was a chance that it was all Hollywood politics anyway.

I didn't exactly let it go but I tucked it away in my mind, right back in a dark corner, just in case I needed what I'd heard later on.

I hoped I wouldn't.

**EPOV**

Lunch is a boisterous affair. For the others. For me it is sheer hell.

Garrett, the bastard, had been invited and he'd spent the entire time chatting up Bella!

The plate of sandwiches I'd been given tasted like gravel in my mouth as I watched him flirt and regale her with tales of his and Emmett's life in and around the little town we were staying in.

Apparently, and according to Garrett, he was a bit of a local football hero. According to me he was a woman stealing asshole.

The way Emmett told it the two boys had both been interested in sports but a love of the military had both drawn them away from their home towns. I wished Garrett had stayed away for good.

Turned out he wasn't just an ex sportsman – and a good one – but he was also ex military and I knew how much women loved a man in uniform. Or a man out of uniform. Or a man who used to wear a uniform. Hell, women loved men with buzz cuts.

I tuned out most of the rest of the conversation and concentrated on eating my lunch so I could go back to the barn and the solitude it offered. I stuffed my mouth with almost a whole slice of bread just so I could say I was finished and could leave when Garrett started asking Bella about what she did for a living. That was fine. Questions like that were fine. It was when he began throwing his head back and laughing for too long and too loudly at her stories about the cops who ate at the restaurant that I felt my gut beginning to churn.

"I'll be in the barn," I mutter to Emmett as I leave the table.

He nods but says nothing. Admittedly his mouth is stuffed full with ham and cheese sandwich at the time, but it still pisses me off.

Everything pisses me off.

Everyone pisses me off.

I am better off alone than in the midst of a group of happy people.

I rush up the stairs and retrieve my script and cigarettes. I no longer care if it's convenient for Emmett to buy me more. He'd brought Garrett-the-snake-in-the-grass into the mix so he could bloody well drive to town and buy them once I'd run out.

Again nobody took any notice of me going by the table as I slip outside and make for the barn for the second time that day.

The cigarette I inhale tastes better than the bitterness in my mouth at the thought of Bella paying attention to Emmett's brother but ignoring me.

It did nothing for the shakes I'd acquired during the meal though. My hands shake worse than normal and my head is pounding. I throw the half finished cigarette onto the ground and toe it out. I put the butt into my jeans pocket and decide to go back into the house to find another aspirin before resuming work on the script.

"I'll just go and grab my coat," Bella is calling over her shoulder as she makes for the stairs right as I come through the doors.

"I'll go and grab the case," Emmett tells his brother who is shoving beer cans into a plastic bag in the kitchen.

"What's going on?" I ask, eyeing Garrett.

"Bella's bored," he tells me with a grin as he knots the handles of the plastic bag and sets it on the counter, "and everyone else is busy so I volunteered to amuse her," he chuckles.

"What are you going to do together?" I ask, feeling my panic and anger rising inside me at his smugness.

"I'm gonna take her down to the back paddock," he laughs. "We're gonna have a blast."

I'm about to tell him he's dead wrong if he thinks he's taking my Bella anywhere but as soon as I open my mouth Emmett comes back into the kitchen with a metal briefcase.

"This should suit," he tells his brother, handing over the case. "You got enough cans?" he asks, nodding towards the plastic bag.

"Yeah, it shouldn't take too many to get her good and ready with the experience she's already got," Garrett replies.

"I'm all set!" Bella says excitedly as she comes skidding into the kitchen.

"Have you got some trainers?" Garrett asks as he comes round the counter and nods at her feet. "We'll have to walk a ways down the paddock so we don't spook the cows and the grounds not really even."

"They're on the deck," she calls over her shoulder as she skips out the doors.

"Take this," Emmett calls as he throws a cell phone to his brother. "Be back by three, she's got an appointment."

"Will do," Garrett calls as he too goes out the doors.

"What the fuck, Em?" I hiss as soon as the doors are shut again.

"What?" he asks, his eyebrows creased.

"You're encouraging your brother to take my...well, to take Bella into a back paddock alone?"

"I'm not seeing the problem," he shrugs.

"He's got beer cans in that bag!" I hiss, pointing to the door.

"Yeah, of course he has. He can't very well do it without them," he scoffs. "I suppose he could've taken bottles, but he had enough cans in that bag to get the job done."

"You are fucking unbelievable!" I shout as I turn on my heel and stalk upstairs, the script and the solitude of the barn forgotten.

**BPOV**

"So, how do you want to do this?" I ask once Garrett's picked a suitable spot.

"The easy way," he says with a grin. "You get yourself ready. Limber up, give your muscles a good stretch and then pick a position that's comfortable."

I shuck my jacket and throw it onto the ground. I crane my neck and stretch both arms up and over my head, pulling on my elbows to give everything in my back, neck and shoulders a good stretch. I set my feet, shoulder width apart, square my shoulders and brace myself. "Okay," I tell him when I'm ready.

He puts it into my hand, turning it over a little to show me that it's ready for use. He settles himself behind me, puts his hands firmly on my hips and then tells me he's ready too.

I brace for the jolt I know is coming and then squeeze it.

Even with earplugs in its loud and I jump a little at the noise.

"Take your time," Garrett says behind me.

I take aim again, going for the empty beer can in the middle of the six, and then squeeze the trigger again. I miss again but the little splinters of wood that fly up tell me I'm closer than the last shot.

"Better," Garrett says. "You're flinching as you pull the trigger so try to relax a little."

"It's just the noise. I'm out of practise," I shout over my shoulder.

"Then just loose off the rest of the rounds and get used to the sound and the kick. Then we'll work on aiming."

Its good advice so I take a crude aim and fire off the other four rounds in the chamber in quick succession. He's right. By the time the fourth bullet hits the fence the noise isn't making me flinch anymore.

"Slip the safety on," he says as he steps away. I do as I'm asked and then hand him the pistol so he can reload. "Better?" he asks as he hands it back.

"Yeah, much, thanks," I tell him as we settle back into my chosen position. "Safety off," I warn him as I use my thumb to push the little lever.

My first shot still misses but I'm pretty sure I don't flinch as I pull the trigger. My second shot clips the lip of the middle can and I can't help but grin.

"You're a lefty," Garrett shouts behind me while I'm aiming for the third time.

"No, I'm naturally right handed," I shout back after I've pulled the trigger and missed again.

"Not with a pistol you're not," he argues. "Switch hands and try again."

I do as he says but it feels a little weird. "Strange," I shout as I take aim.

I pull the trigger and hit the middle can dead centre making it fly backwards.

"Lefty," Garrett laughs behind me. "Go again with that hand."

I do and two more cans fall off the fence. "Holy shit!" I crow. "Safety on," I tell him and hand him the gun.

"Told you," he chuckles as he reloads again. "Who taught you to shoot in the first place?" he asks as he hands it back to me.

"My dad," I tell him as we position up again. "Safety off," I warn and then take aim. The last of the still standing cans fly off the fence in quick succession as I find my range and aim using my left hand easily.

"Safety back on and I'll go set them back up again," he says. He waits until I've tipped the gun over to show him the safety catch back in the on position and then he steps away. "You're a natural," he tells me as he comes back to my side. "A smaller gun would suit you better but you've got good aim and a steady hand. When you use your left that is," he teases.

"I never thought to try left handed," I admit as I get back into position. "Safety off," I warn and wait for him to come to stand behind me again. My last three bullets hit true and the three cans fly away backwards in quick succession. "Safety on," I tell him as I turn to hand him the pistol. "You have a turn."

"I'd love to," he grins as he reloads from the box of rounds that Emmett had put into the briefcase.

"Are you a lefty too?" I ask as he steps away and cranes his neck.

"Nope," he grins as he turns side on to the fence. He's facing me and he's grinning widely. "Safety off," he warns and then he lifts the pistol and fires rapidly, one after the other, seemingly without having taken aim at all.

I'm caught off guard and flinch at the rapid firing then turn to see he's only hit one of the cans off the fence.

"Ha!" I crow. "You missed the rest!"

"Safety on," he shouts and then nods towards the fence. "Go find that can I hit."

I jog towards the fence and slip under the top rung so I can retrieve the can. "Motherfucker," I hiss when I find the pieces of it strewn on the ground. He's destroyed it. All his shots having hit the one can, in rapid succession. I gather the aluminium splinters up and hold them over my head so he can see them. "You sure showed it who's boss," I chuckle.

**EPOV**

I hear them laughing as they come up the yard. I fold my arms back over my chest and sink down on the bed a little lower so that they couldn't see my head in the window.

Two hours they'd been gone and for the whole two hours I'd laid on the bed mad as hell at both McCarty brothers.

And then there was Bella. How could she? Only a few days before she'd been, well, she'd let me touch her. And the day before that she'd admitted that waking up with me, well, with my hand on her breast and my erection at her back was something she'd liked. Welcomed even. And then she takes off with Garrett just like that!

"What?" I shout at the knock at the bedroom door.

Emmett sticks his head inside. "It's time for your session with Rose," he tells me.

"She's here too?" I huff.

"Of course not," he chuckles. "I've got her on Skype. Come on."

"I think you and your brother could use the session more than me. You use it," I tell him.

"We had a deal," he says sternly as he comes into the room. "I keep trying to help you but only if you keep trying to help yourself."

"Fine," I huff, knowing he's right. I don't like that he's right, but he is. That had always been our deal. He holds the door open for me and then follows me to the head of the stairs. I turn before I take the first one. "Your brother's a sexual deviant, you've sanctioned his behaviour and I'm the one in therapy? I want it noted that I'm not the one who needs Rosalie right now."

"She's waiting and she does charge by the hour," he grins.

"Fuck you, Em," I mutter darkly as I descend the stairs ahead of him.

"No thanks. You're not my type," he chuckles, making me even madder than I already am.

I can see the two laptops on the coffee table in the living room and head that way. I choose the armchair over the sofa and am just saying hello to Rose when Bella comes in.

"Introduce us," Rosalie suggests as Bella sits on the sofa facing the other laptop.

"Rosalie Hale this is Bella Swan. Bella this is my therapist, Rose," I mumble.

"A pleasure to meet you, Bella," Rose says with a nod into her camera.

"Nice to meet you too, Rose," Bella says in a shaking voice.

I look to her but she doesn't lift her eyes from the screen of the laptop.

"Let's begin," Rose says firmly and I see her take up her clipboard. "I've already spoken to Emmett and gotten a rundown of how your week has been since our last session, so we won't begin there this week. Seeing as you've asked for Bella to be present I thought we'd talk a bit about how you're feeling since learning that the two of you have been friends for a long time."

"I think it's weirder for her," I say with a shrug.

"I asked how _you_ felt about it," Rose says firmly.

"It's okay I guess," I mumble.

"Nice," Bella huffs.

"You have something to add?" Rose asks her.

"I tell him we were close friends for years and he says its okay, he guesses. Like I'm something stuck to his shoe. That pisses me off," Bella says snidely.

"Everything pisses you off," I mutter.

"Not everything," she counters, "just you."

"And you've made it very clear that you don't want anything to do with me. I get it alright? I get that you hate me now. I get your message loud and clear," I shout, unable to stop myself.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Bella shouts right back.

"You!" I bellow, ignoring Rose' attempt to get our attention. "You hate me for dragging you into this mess. I get it. Your life's gone to shit since you started being my friend again. I don't blame you for being pissed either. I'm toxic."

"Toxic! You don't know squat," Bella yells back. "I don't hate you. You piss me off but I don't hate you, you big idiot. I'm pissed because I called to check on you after the caller threatened you but you never once asked me if I was alright. You didn't come looking for me once Seth dropped me at your house. You didn't bother to ask if my house was still standing after being broken into. You didn't ask if anything had been damaged or if I felt violated knowing some creepy piece of shit used my house phone to make that call to the radio station.

"You just hid in your room and only thought about yourself," she finishes with a sigh.

I was aghast. For so many reasons. "I didn't know," I tell her sincerely.

"Didn't know what?" she barks, ignoring Rose just like I am.

"I didn't know someone broke into your house. Nobody told me," I assure her.

"You didn't know?" she asks, her eyes wide and her bottom lip trembling.

I shake my head at the same time as I tell her no. "Emmett told me to stay in the library. He said not to come out. He said it would be better if I was out of the way for the day, so he could plan. He said he needed us both calm and that I should stay there and read, or watch a movie or whatever until it was time for us to leave to come here. So I did. Is your house alright? Was there any damage? Are you alright? Oh god. What if you'd been home? Oh god I'm so sorry for all of this. It's all my fault," I shout in a panic, leaping to my feet.

"Edward!" Rose shouts, "sit down!" I do as she says but I don't take my eyes off Bella. "Bella, do you accept that Edward didn't know about the break in at your house?" she asks calmly.

"It makes sense now," she says with a firm nod.

"And Edward, can you accept why Bella was hurt, even though she didn't know you weren't informed?" Rose asks me.

"Yeah," I sigh, feeling slightly sick in the stomach.

"Go ahead and answer his questions now, Bella," Rose instructs.

"Um," Bella says with a sniff, "I don't remember them."

"Are you alright?" I ask right away.

"Yeah. I wasn't home, remember? I was already at the restaurant."

"And your house? Is everything alright at your house?" I ask.

"It's all fine," she whispers back.

"Do you feel violated now?" I ask carefully. "Because if you do I'll hire round the clock guards. I'll pay to have the whole house wired and Emmett can probably work it so that alarms go off at my house if anyone goes near yours. I'll make sure you're safe there, if you want to go back."

She smiles then. It's weak and doesn't quite reach her eyes, but it's the first smile she's shown me in two days and to me it's special. "Thank you," she whispers, finally angling her body towards mine. "That's so sweet of you, but its all okay. The house is already wired to an alarm that Em and Seth both hear. That's how they knew it had happened. And I don't know if I want to go back there yet," she shrugs.

"Alright," Rose says, reminding me that she's still there via the link on the laptop. "I think that exchange has taken some of the sting out of the past few days' tension," she says with a smile though I don't look at the screen for long.

"No, it hasn't," I say loudly and firmly. "I'm glad that you're alright and I'm happy that you might not be so angry with me now, but I'm very angry with you," I tell Bella straight up.

"What did I do?" she asks, on the defensive immediately.

"You went into the back paddock with Garrett!"

"So?" she says with a sneer.

"How could you?" I plead. "How could you go off with him? After the way we've been with each other these past few days."

"Um," Rose attempts to butt in but neither Bella nor I are interested in her opinion right then.

"What do you mean 'go off with him'?" Bella shouts. "What exactly do you think we were doing out there?" she bellows, pointing towards the back of the house and the paddock in question.

"He had alcohol," I hiss. "He said he was going to make sure you weren't bored anymore and then insinuated that he was going to get you drunk so the two of you could have a blast," I tell her, using my fingers to quote him directly.

"Insinuated is the key word there," Rose chimes in.

"Emmett was all for it too," I bark at neither woman in particular. "He was happy for you to go off with his brother to do god knows what."

"You're unbelievable," Bella snarls. "How could you think I'd do something like that?"

"Because I watched you happily go off with him. You were all excited and giddy to go," I defend.

She leans forward on the sofa and points her finger at me. "You were the one who left the lunch table to go and sulk, Edward. You were the only one who wasn't in on the discussion over the end of the meal. It's your own fault you didn't hear Emmett ask me if I knew how to shoot a gun to defend myself.

"It's your own fault you didn't hear my answer and it's your own fault that you didn't hear Garrett offer to give me a refresher course. You read into what you _did_ hear and came out the other side thinking the worst of me."

"Assumptions aren't always truths, Edward," Rose pipes up with.

"Shut up, Rose," I bark at her then turn back to Bella. "You went into the back paddock with Garrett for target practise?"

"Yes," she says sourly. "The beer cans were empty, you moron. He lined them up on the fence for me to aim at. Having a blast meant we were going to _shoot_, not _fuck_," she hisses.

I wince at the crudeness of her words. I don't like it. I don't like her speaking that way. It seems foreign, out of place coming out of the mouth of the Bella I know now. "Don't speak like that, it's beneath you," I whisper.

"How would you know what's beneath me? You don't remember me!" she shouts, getting to her feet.

I stare up at her, the laptop and Rose forgotten as I feel the heat rise up my back and neck.

"I want to remember," I say as calmly as I can, trying to regain control of my body and brain and knowing already that it's futile. "I've told you I want to remember you. Please don't use my inability to remember as a weapon against me," I beg.

She takes a very brief look at the laptop, swallows thickly and then rounds on me.

"Then don't use it to excuse everything you can't face!" Bella shouts at me.

"Bella..." Rose begins but is cut off by a venomous hiss by the red faced Bella.

"Stay out of this, Rosalie," she warns before she turns her attention back to me. "You're hiding behind it, Edward," she accuses. "Nobody wants to upset you so they tip toe around things they think will bother you. But guess what? My father died protecting you and I'm upset about it and I _want_ it to upset you too. It should upset you. I want you to _feel_ something about it, goddamn you!"

"I don't remember," I whisper, trying to shrink back into the armchair to get away from the poison dripping from her tongue.

"He loved you," she shouts, tears falling freely from her eyes now.

"I don't remember," I gasp, shrinking away from her. My vision is blurring and my tongue feels swollen. I can't breathe and my chest feels as though it's being crushed. I lean forwards, wanting to put my head over my knees, but Bella rushes forward and puts a hand on my shoulder, pushing me back upright.

"No!" she screams. "You don't get to check out this time. You stay right here, with me. You stay Edward Cullen and you listen to the pain and you deal with it like I've had to."

"Let me go," I beg, clawing at her hand as she pushes harder and harder against my shoulder.

"Bella!" Rose is shouting in the background.

"Charlie Swan, Charlie Swan, Charlie Swan," Bella chants as she stands over me.

"I can't," I gasp as the vision in my right eye blinks out.

"You can," she insists, shoving me again so I can't sit forward to draw breath or clear my head. "You don't get to skip out on it anymore, Edward. You stay here, stay right here and _feel_, damn you."

"Let him go," Rose is shouting but Bella's not listening.

"He loved you. He loved you and he protected you and he died and I want to know how and I want to know why," she screams.

"I don't know!" I scream back, pushing against her hand. "I don't know! I'd tell you if I did but I don't!"

"You do know!" she insists. "Were you there? Did you see it happen? Is that why you dream of blood? Do you know who killed him and why? I need to know. You need to remember."

"I don't remember. I don't know," I gasp. The little bit of vision I have in my left eye begins to turn red and I know, I just know that I can't escape it now. I panic the moment the smell and taste of blood floods my system. I can feel it on my hands. I can taste it on my tongue. It's in my eyes, on my clothing. Dripping into my ear. "Blood," I shout. "Get it off me! Get it off me!"

**Emmett POV **

"Make her stop," Alice sobs beside me. "Please, maker her stop now."

I stare at the laptop screen in front of me and watch Bella break my mark. It's the deal we'd struck and it was done the way we'd both agreed it had to be done, but the outcome wasn't what we'd hoped for.

"Emmett?" Rosie asks.

I look down to the right hand corner of my screen and see the tears in her eyes and know it's time to pull the plug. "Bella, enough," I say firmly. "I'll call you as soon as I can, Rosie," I tell the now sobbing therapist before shutting down the link between us. "Jasper, call Leah and get her to go round to Rosie's office. I want her looked after until I can talk to her myself," I tell him as I head for the door. "Garrett, go home. I can't have you here if he's going to come round upset at you. Seth, you come with me. You'll need to take care of your mark. Take care of Alice," I tell Jasper at the end.

"Done," Jasper says quietly. His face is pale and I know how much he hated watching what we'd just seen because I'd hated it too.

Seth's on his feet beside me but he looks about as stable as Alice looks. He'll be as professional as I need him to be the instant we step off the top step so I let him have his moment of fragility as we leave to go upstairs.

Seth goes right to Bella who's slumped at Edward's feet and sobbing hard.

My mark has sagged sideways in the armchair, his head lolling to one side and his eyes rolling up into the back of his head. I press my fingertips to his carotid artery and feel the relief flood my system at the strong thump, thump, thump I feel there.

"I've killed him," Bella is sobbing and I'm happy to be able to tell her she hasn't.

"He's passed out," I assure her, though it shouldn't be an assurance. "I'll take him upstairs to his bed."

I scoop him up and head towards the stairs with him in my arms, his head dangling over my arm as we go.

I can hear Seth talking softly to his mark and as I reach the top of the staircase I hear their footsteps coming upstairs too.

I give a fleeting thought to whether or not manipulating them into sharing a room was the wisest course of action I could've taken but as I settle Ed onto the bed I shake off the worry. It had been right even if what we'd just put him through had been wrong. He'd never passed out from stress before, this was new, but I doubted it was a step in the right direction.

We'd gone too far and he'd pay the price for the decision I made. Poor bastard I think to myself as I take his shoes off and shove his feet under the covers.

"Put her in Jasper's bed," I tell Seth as he stops at the bedroom door, Bella tucked under his arm protectively.

"No," Bella hisses so quietly I only just catch it.

"Bella..." Seth begins but he's cut off immediately.

"Both of you, get out," she snarls as she shoves him away, freeing herself from his grasp.

I back away from my mark despite every instinct inside me hating leaving him when he's out of it. I look up into Bella's face as she approaches the bed and can see that she's serious. She wants to care for him herself and really, when it came right down to it, I have no reason to deny her. I get to my feet, back away from the bed and go to the door. I pull on Seth's sleeve and make him step back further into the hall with me.

"Watch him closely. Monitor his breathing. Press your alarm if you need us," I remind her.

She crosses the space from bed side to door in a few quick, determined strides, grasps the doorknob and before she even looks like doing it I know what's coming.

"You stay the fuck away from us," she snarls and then slams the door in our faces.

Seth flinches but I don't. I'd seen it coming and I understood both the words and the action that went with it. I'd forced her to hurt the man she loved, and I'd done it deliberately. I wasn't going to be popular for a bit but I stood by the reasoning behind my decisions. Even if the outcome wasn't a good one.

"Come on, we've got work to do," I tell a still stunned Seth.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he mutters darkly as we go down the stairs.

I lead him back to the basement, make sure that Jasper has completed the tasks I'd set for him, and then check the monitors to make sure the property is secure after my brother left.

"Call Emily, get some advice on what they're going to need tonight," I tell Seth as I snatch up my cell phone from the desk.

"On it," he says and whether he's left the 'boss' off the end deliberately or not I can't tell.

I clear my throat to get their attention as a group and then move to the door. "I know that was horrible to see but it needed to happen. And quite likely it will happen again before we leave here. Anyone who doesn't want to stick around is welcome to head on back to the city. I'll arrange transport and give you a month's severance if you decide you can't continue to work at this with me. Any takers?" I ask.

Three heads shake as one but it's Jasper who speaks. "I want to see this through. Doesn't mean I like having to do this shit to him, or her, but I want to see it through."

"Then complete that list of Tanya's employees," I tell him firmly. "Charlie's death, and whatever Ed's hiding from, might not have anything to do with the current threats being made, but if they're connected I want to know as soon as possible."

"On it, boss," Jasper nods.

I look to Alice and she can't quite meet my eyes but she'd shaken her head too so I knew she'd stay. "What about you Alice?" I ask anyway, just to be sure.

"I need a minute longer and then I'll go back to searching Jacob Black," she whispers.

"Take whatever time you need," I say gently. "This bit was always going to be rough, kiddo."

"It's awful," she sniffs but pulls her keyboard back towards herself anyway.

"It is," I agree. "But this is the way I've been instructed to help him, so I need everyone to get on with it. I'll be in the barn; I have a few calls to make. Shout if you need me, or if they do," I say, pointing upstairs.

As I cross the lawn I dial Rosie's number. She answers with a sniff.

"Is Leah there with you yet?" I ask.

"Not yet," she cries.

"It'll be okay babe," I tell her as confidently as I can.

"Oh Em," she sobs. "That was so rough..." she trails off.

"It was," I agree as I pull open the barn door. "Bad for Ed but good for Bella."

"She's in such pain," my beautiful girl cries down the line.

"She is. And we both know she needed to say all those things and not just to try and shock Edward either. She needed that and you did so well, sweetheart."

"I wish you were here," she sighs.

"Soon, babe. Soon. We're nearly at the finish line, I can feel it, and once he's well and she's got the answers she needs, they'll live happily ever after. And then I'm coming for you Rosie. I'm coming for you and we'll be together too and I'll make you happy too," I tell her as my own tears start to fall.

**BPOV**

I lie down beside Edward on the bed and put my cheek to his chest. I can hear his heartbeat which is nice and strong but it also means I can rest while touching him. I need to be touching him.

I close my eyes and concentrate on the sound of his heart. He's warm and smells good and his heart is thumping along just as it should be. I slide my hand over his abs and rub soft circles on his belly.

He flinches once in every four circles. His breathing is slow and shallow but it changes, ever so slightly, as I rub round and round. The muscles in his stomach contract and relax in time with my rubbing and when his breathing gets a little quicker I know for sure he's coming around.

I sit up then, leaving my hand on his belly, so I can watch his face.

He's serene while he's checked out but the instant he opens his eyes he's terrified. Scrambling backwards using his hands to claw at mine and at the blanket beneath him.

"Blood! Blood!" he starts shouting.

"There's no blood," I assure him as calmly as I can as I back away, palms facing upwards to show him I won't touch him. "You're alright. There's no blood. You're safe."

"Get it off me!" he screams, rubbing at his face with his palms as he leaps off the bed.

"There's nothing there," I say softly. "You're alright."

"Get it off me! Get it off me! It's in my eyes!" bellows as he starts to claw at his face.

I can feel my own panic rising because I'm not prepared for him to come round like this. I take a deep breath and blink rapidly, trying to clear my mind so I can form a plan to soothe him.

"Come on," I tell him, nodding towards the door once an idea has struck. "We'll get it off you. Come," I beg, holding my hand out for his across the bed. "Come on. You want it off you we'll get it off you."

"I can taste it," he moans, licking his lips like a madman.

"Come on then," I encourage as he starts to step around the end of the bed.

I pull him through the bedroom door and give him a nudge to get him to concentrate on walking rather than rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

I guide him into the bathroom and step by so I can turn on the tap at the basin. "Look in the mirror," I tell him, shoving his hip so he's standing in front of it. "See? There's no blood."

"I can smell it, taste it," he moans despite the fact that he's looking at himself and can see, as well as I can, that there's no blood.

He leans over the basin and cups his hands to catch the water. I watch as he splashes it on his face and rubs it around his neck and into his hair. He does it over and over, looking up at himself in the mirror in between each cupping.

He rinses his mouth, spits it back out and watches it swirl around the basin.

He's not calming down. In fact he's getting more agitated the longer he stands there. For whatever reason he can taste and smell blood.

I move around him and open the shower door. I twist the taps until the waters good and hot and then turn to face him. "Undress," I instruct, trying hard to ignore the idea that he's about to be naked in front of me. He's still swishing water in his mouth and he holds it in his cheeks as he pulls off his shirt over his head.

He's not arguing with me and he's not fighting the suggestion that he strip so I know that this is what he needs. He shucks his jeans and his boxers and then rushes past me into the shower cubicle.

"Toothpaste," he moans as he fills his palm with shampoo and starts scrubbing at his scalp.

I grab the tube from the counter and pass it over the top of the glass door. He snatches it out of my hand and squirts a good portion of it into his mouth. He lets the tube fall at his feet and then holds out his hand for his toothbrush and I pass that to him too.

He uses one hand to manipulate the brush, the other to scrape and rub at his hair.

He's frantic. Manic. Desperate and terrified.

And I can tell it's taking too long for him.

He spits the toothpaste out of his mouth and then reaches down for the tube again. His other hand is still scrubbing at his hair but he's looking longingly at the bar of soap in the holder on the wall.

"I'll help," I tell him in a rush as I strip out of my clothes too. "I'll help get it off you." I surrender then. I give in to whatever it is he thinks he sees and feels and tastes on himself. There's no time and no thought to being naked with him. It doesn't bother me and he's far too far gone to care as I step into the cubicle with him. "Let me do that," I tell him, shoving his hand out of his hair so that I can rub it.

That's freed one of his hands so he quickly clutches for the soap and starts rubbing it over his throat and chest. He leaves the toothbrush in his mouth and I can see his jaw working hard as he bites down on it rhythmically. Now he's got both his hands free to soap himself up and he does so, vigorously.

"Head back," I tell him once the lather from the shampoo is spent.

He does as I ask and I tilt the shower head a little so that the water can rinse away all the suds.

"Again," he moans around the brush in his mouth as he straightens up.

I take that to mean he wants his hair washed again so I reach up to the bottle of shampoo standing on the ledge over the door. He dips his body just a little so that I can wash his hair but he doesn't falter from washing his body, or from chewing on the toothbrush.

"Head back," I tell him again and he does so without issue. "Again?" I ask once the suds are gone.

He looks down at his feet and at the water and soap swirling around the drain and then shakes his head. Whatever he's seen has calmed him a little. He sets the soap back in the soap dish, kicks the toothpaste tube aside and then grabs for me. His fingers dig into my hipbones as he shoves me backwards and away so that he can look me over. The coldness of the glass wall shocks me and I shiver.

"Is it on you?" he asks, looking me over from head to toe.

He's not really seeing me though. His eyes are darting from side to side. He doesn't realise he's seeing me naked for the very first time. All he can think about is blood. It's probably all he can see, taste and smell too.

"It's not on me," I tell him carefully. I turn, showing him my ass and my back. "There's nothing on me," I tell him again as I come back around, facing him again.

"Are you hurt?" he asks.

"No," I tell him simply as he stares.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply and when he looks down at me again I can see the tears swimming in his eyes. "There was so much blood," he whispers as he lowers his forehead to mine. "It was in my eyes and in my mouth."

"There's no blood," I reassure him. "We were arguing and you had a panic attack. There was no actual blood."

"No," he says quietly against my hair. "I know there was blood. So much blood. Everywhere. It soaked my clothes and covered my hands. It leaked into my ear," he moans.

I wonder if he's talking about the day daddy died but I can't find the courage to ask. Not now. Not now that he's suffering because I pushed him too far.

"There's no blood here," I say instead.

His hands slide over my hips, pulling me closer, and then he clasps them behind my back, trapping me in an embrace. That's okay with me. I want to be held by him and I need to hold him in return. I want to tell him how sorry I am, how bad I feel that I pushed him so far that he passed out, but I can't. The words are stuck in my throat. So I stay quiet and just let him hold me.

He cries quietly, his tears mixing with the water that's flowing over us. He sniffs now and then, squeezes me tightly now and then and shuffles his feet a little.

The water isn't going to go cold but I know we can't stand there forever so when his sniffles cease I pull away. His eyes are red rimmed and his cheeks are red and shiny from having been scrubbed so hard.

I kiss the underside of his chin gently and then step out of the cubicle. I pull a towel off the rail and wrap my hair up in it before taking another and drying my body quickly. When I'm done I pull on my underwear and my t-shirt then take the other, dry towel off the rail for him.

"Come on out," I tell him after opening the door and showing him the towel. "Let me take care of you," I plead as he stares at me blankly.

He steps out and I turn off the taps. He's unsteady on his feet so I have him hold the counter for balance while he dries himself. I get him to step into his boxers but I leave his other clothing on the floor where he dropped it. I run the towel over his hair for a few more seconds and then throw it on top of his clothes.

I take his hand and lead him out of the bathroom, across the hall and back into our bedroom. I pull back the covers while he stands motionless at the side of the bed like a zombie. I pat the sheet when I'm ready and he sits, slides his legs in and then lies down on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

I go around the other side, crawl in myself and then scoot over so that I'm lying up against his side. He lifts his arm and I duck under it, lying with my cheek on his chest.

I hear him sniffle and wonder if he's crying again. I don't want to check, I don't want to make him uncomfortable, so I lie still and close my eyes.

He cries steadily for a good hour, never speaking, just crying softly with his arm around me.

There's nothing I can do for him. Nothing I can say. So I lie there crushed in my own guilt.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


	14. Chapter 14

**EPOV**

Hard, that's how I wake.

Hard and with one hand full of soft, pliable flesh.

It's dark and quiet and the body beside me is close, very close. Warm, supple, lying against my chest.

"Ohh," is murmured somewhere in the vicinity of my ear.

I squeeze that flesh a little, testing its elasticity and waiting to feel the telltale pucker of the little nub in the centre. There. It pebbles and creases.

"Ohh," is murmured again, followed by a breathless 'yes'.

I push my hips forward, seeking the heat and softness I know is there. The pressure on my erection is pleasure in its purest form and a low, growling moan of my own escapes my lips.

A hand reaches back, curving over my hip but the wrong way round to get a good grip, tugging on my boxers and trying to pull me harder up against the warmth.

I part my lips over the flesh in front of them. It's a shoulder, maybe the curve of a neck, definitely warm and soft. The smell is warmth and female.

A thigh pushes backwards, forcing me to shift. I press my knees together and push forwards, my cock doing its best to dig into the cleft of her ass.

"Christ," I hiss against the warmth at my lips as her thigh flexes, the muscle clenching there and forcing against my pulsing hardness.

"More," is whispered into the dim cavern of the room and I oblige happily.

I pinch the flesh that's between my fingers and bite gently at the skin beneath my lips. A long, low hiss escapes a throat that isn't mine. I buck my hips and the dimple of her ass is shoved backwards more forcefully, enclosing my cock and making me echo that hiss for myself.

The thigh is removed without warning, her body heat taken from me, making me grumble a complaint, but she rolls until she's on her back and then rolls again until our bodies are facing, aligned, and our mouths meet.

She tastes of mint and her lips are soft and warm against my own.

Her fingers are in my hair, tugging and twisting it as our tongues meet in the centre where we are joined.

It's slow and leisurely and delicious. But it's not enough.

I trace her hip with my fingers and then move them upwards, digging them into the hollows of her ribs, making a mental map of what I cannot see but what I can feel. I pull her closer, our chests meeting and I slide my thigh between hers until the heat of her core is high up, almost against my groin.

She moans into my mouth as she rocks her hips, dragging herself, using my leg as she needs.

She bites my lower lip sending waves of desire coursing through my already overheated body. I bite back, gently, and she tugs my hair harder in response.

I pull on her hip again, forcing her centre harder against my thigh and she moans into my waiting mouth.

Her hand leaves my hair and travels down my back with aching slowness before settling against my ass cheek. She digs her nails in, pulling me, pushing me, and rocking me back and forth as she takes her pleasure from my thigh.

It's still slow. Still leisurely. The passion and desire is there. The lust is swirling between us, but our movements are measured, as though we are drinking one another in. And maybe we are. Maybe we are consuming each other.

She pulls her mouth from mine and gulps in a harsh breath, giving me time to trace her jaw with my lips and tongue. She pulls back, eyes me for a long moment and then she buries her face into the junction of my shoulder and neck and pants hard as she resumes rocking against me.

I kiss and nibble the flesh available to me and inhale the sweetness of her hair.

I nudge her until she's rolled a little, until she's half reclined on one shoulder, and then I tug up her shirt to expose a breast. The puckered peak is between my lips in an instant and makes her moan long and loud.

"More," she gasps and I begin to wonder how much more she'll allow me to give her. When she demands more again I throw caution to the wind and hope that she knows her own mind.

I no longer know mine. I'm on autopilot. I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know that I'm giving her the 'more' she wants. I'm not even sure I know how to go about it.

But I'm seeking too. Searching. Desperate for her. Only her. She has something I want. I want to give her something too.

Is it right? Is it just? Should it be now? Should it be me?

I don't know. I chant this in my mind as she writhes beneath me, still begging for more, I ask myself these things. But there are no answers in my mind. There never are. Only more questions that I'm tired of pondering.

But there is this. This pleasure. This warmth. This giving. This woman.

And I'm tired of being afraid. Tired of searching for answers that nobody has. Tired of being alone. Tired of wanting her and not making sure she knows. Tired of loving her and not being brave enough to tell her that I think I've always loved her.

The words are there then. In my brain and in my mouth but I'm a coward and I'm afraid. Instead I decide to trust her. To give and let her take if she wants to.

"Bella?" I ask, hoping she'll understand the question I'm asking for I'm not confident that I truly do.

She has me then. Her palms to my cheeks, her eyes open wide as she stares up at me from the pillow.

"Yes," she says so firmly, so resolutely, that I make myself believe that she understands what I do not.

I snake my free hand down her shoulder slowly, over her ribs and to the waistband of her panties. I still, giving her a moment to think on it, but she's sure. She tells me so by bucking her hips into my hand. I delve beneath the fabric and the breathy little moans she makes drive me further onwards. Using the palm of my hand I push on her hip, just a little, so that she rolls further onto her back, giving me access to the silken flesh between her legs.

The first touch of the pads of my fingers to her lips makes her cry out and me leak into my boxers. She's wet, so very wet, and so very soft.

She's chanting yes, yes, yes as I explore her for the first time and it makes me bold. It makes me believe she wants me. It makes me hope. When I find the bundle of nerves at the juncture of her lips she writhes beneath me, begging me for more. Again. More, more, more.

I wish I have my other hand free but it's trapped beneath me in the position I'm in. I don't want to stop the momentum we've got happening so I do my best with the one hand I've got available. I spread the slickness I've found between her lips and when my finger is good and coated I slowly, very very slowly slide that finger inside her.

Her walls grip me, pulsating as I push just a little more inside her on each of her exhales.

I watch her beautiful face. She's got her bottom lip between her teeth and she's panting hard as my finger slides and glides within her. Her eyes meet mine and I drown. I'm swallowing hard as I watch her. She's staring up at me, her eyes pleading with me.

"More," she chants and I wonder what in the hell 'more' I can give her to get her where she's needing to go.

But I do know. Deep inside me I do know what I can do. On one of her exhales and my withdrawals I slide a second finger inside and she's sighing long and hard just below my chin then.

She's clawing at my shoulder with her free hand and then she throws her head forward until her lips and tongue are suckling on my throat. It's blissful. Her mouth is hot, her tongue swirling beside my Adam's apple as it is.

"Can you come for me like this?" I moan into her ear, making her shiver against me. Her nod is minute but it's there.

I increase the speed of my fingers then and she begins to meet each entrance with a buck of her hips, showing me how deeply she needs me, teaching me what she likes. She bites down on the flesh she finds beneath her lips as she arches her back and shoves her hips towards me faster and harder.

"So good," she moans.

"So beautiful," I moan back before kissing her hair.

She stills for just a second, her nails halting half in and half out of the flesh of my hip. She throws her head back, arches further, cries out my name and then I can feel her spasming around my fingers. Then the ripple and tremble of her thighs as she rushes headlong into her climax.

She rocks more slowly as she rides it out, but she still rocks. I can feel the slippery glide of her core on my finger still and I close my eyes tightly, concentrating on the rhythmic jerks and convulsions still wracking her body.

Before it's fully over for her she snakes her hand between us, beneath the waistband of my boxers and cups my length in her palm and fingers. I think I gasp, or whine some, or maybe I curse, I don't know. But she's taken me in hand and it feels so fucking good I have no hope to articulate much of anything as she begins to stroke me.

I've still got two fingers inside her but they aren't moving. But she is. Still. She's still bucking up into my hand, taking further pleasure from me.

But I can't move. I'm stuck. Unable to think and unable to get my head around what she's doing to me, what I've just done to her.

"Let me," she whispers against my throat.

It's not about let. It's not about what I want or need. And maybe it's just a little bit wrong too. Maybe we shouldn't be doing this. Maybe I shouldn't touch her this way. Maybe she's not mine. And we aren't alone. This house is filled with bodies, and ears, and opinions.

I grab for her wrist, the exit of my fingers from inside her far too swift for my liking, and hers judging by the swift intake of breath as I leave her body. "You don't have to," I tell her truthfully.

She smiles then and it's radiant. Confident and radiant. I know what she's going to say before she does. "I want to," she grins. "Please let me."

All at once my resistance falls away. I'm not taking from her, she's giving to me. Freely. And I want her to. I let her give to me.

I nod just once and her eyes light from within.

She makes a ring with her fingers and fists me tightly. I suck in an unsteady breath and she begins to stroke and I begin to groan against her hair, having had to duck my chin to concentrate. But she pulls back and her eyes bore into mine, her hand bringing me closer and closer to oblivion as she watches my face intently, just as I'd watched hers.

"I want you to come for me," she groans, her tongue snaking out to lick at my jaw.

I can't speak. I can hardly breathe. I nod. I think I nod. And then I'm there. Standing at the edge of the precipice and then she bites the point of my chin I fall. Shaking and shuddering, pulsing into her hand as I crest, ride and fall into my own climax.

I'm covered in a thin film of sweat and still wearing the effects of the day before but in her hand I let it all go. Literally. My body explodes into her waiting hand as her eyes stare into what feels like my soul. If I have one left.

And she's not disgusted. She's grinning. Smiling up at me as I jerk and pulse a little more. And then I'm grinning too. But for a different reason I'd wager.

It's quick, too quick. It'd been explosive and I feel a bit of an idiot for not being able to last but she's not complaining and so I keep my opinions to myself as we lie there.

We're both breathing heavily, sharing oxygen in the tiny space between us. Her hand is feather light against me and mine is tracing soft circles on her shoulder as we come down from the high.

I reluctantly pull away to reach over the edge of the bed, pulling the first piece of cloth I can find up and over us for her to wipe her hands on. I fling it away once she's done and then tuck myself back into my boxers. I roll over so I'm on my side, facing her again.

"Did we do this before?" I whisper hoarsely.

"No," she whispers back before kissing me softly at the corner of my mouth.

"Then I was an idiot, before," I reply sincerely.

"You weren't," she whispers though it's firmly, almost argumentatively. "You were kind and sweet and I was too young."

"Emmett says I'm twenty nine, how old are you?" I ask, nipping little kisses along her jaw line.

"That feels nice," she groans, "I'm twenty four."

"You were only nineteen," I whisper against her lips. "I was twenty four. Too old for you."

"You thought so," she tells me before kissing me hard.

"You didn't," I groan as she takes a turn kissing along my jaw.

"Did you remember that or are you guessing?" she asks against my lips.

"Guessing," I sigh.

"Good guess. You're right though. We were friends and had been for years and years. I wanted to try. You wanted me to find someone my own age. We argued about it more than once," she trails off before capturing my lips for a deeper kiss.

"Did you?" I ask, tearing my mouth away from hers so I can take a breath and so that I can run my tongue along her lower lip.

"Did I what?" she murmurs as her tongue sneaks out and caresses mine.

I turn her onto her back and hover over her, braced on my elbows. I kiss her hard but try to keep my waist away from hers because of the sticky mess in my shorts. "Did you find someone your own age?" I ask her before kissing her hard.

Her eyes are half closed as I draw away from her and wait for an answer. She hesitates long enough to give me that answer without her needing to say it.

"Was he good to you?" I ask when the silence becomes a little awkward.

"He was at first," she nods, though she still can't meet my eyes.

"Are you still seeing him?" I ask, my heart pounding in my chest as I wait for the answer. My guilt is sitting on a knife edge, just waiting for her to give it the go ahead to flood my system for doing what I just did with another man's woman. Maybe.

"We divorced last year," she whispers, shaking her head.

It's enough to make my guilt retreat but not enough to stop my gut from clenching horribly. "You were married?" I ask, unsure what where my shock is coming from.

"It was a mistake," she says, turning her head to the side, hiding her eyes from me.

"Look at me," I beg, nudging her chin with mine. "A mistake or not you married him. You must have felt something for him. Are you truly free of him now? Or is this..." I trail off, unsure exactly what I mean and doubting she does either.

"It was a mistake," is her simple reply.

It doesn't answer any of my questions, or quell the worry in my head. She'd been married. She was now divorced. Was she hurting? Was I distraction from that pain? Could she love him then fall out of love in such a short space of time? Could she fall in love with me wasn't the question here. The question was whether or not she should.

"Are you sad for it?" I ask hesitantly, shoving aside my own need to know details for now.

She shakes her head and I let out the breath I'd been holding. "He wasn't a good guy," she sighs, "I just didn't know about it until we were already married."

"Am I good guy?" I ask before I can rethink the words.

She smiles up at me, cupping my cheeks with her warm palms. "You have always been a good guy," she says before pulling me closer for a soft kiss. "Even now, when you don't know exactly who you are, or much about who you were before, you're a good guy."

"Am I good enough for you?" I ask cautiously.

"You always were good enough for me. I was just too young for you before," she whispers.

"I think I was an idiot," I grin down at her. "When I'm better, when I remember, do you think I'll still be good enough for you? Have I left it too late to try with you?"

"It's never too late," she whispers before yawning.

I look over at the clock beside the bed and squint at the glowing red numbers. "It's too late to continue this," I chuckle before ducking my chin and kissing her lips. "Go back to sleep. I'll go clean up."

I slide off her and just have my feet on the floor when she grabs my forearm. "Come back to me," she whispers.

I stare down at her sleepy face and wonder if she understands the double meaning in her words. I nod to her and go into the bathroom. I clean myself up as best I can with a washcloth and throw that and my boxers into the pile of clothing on the floor. I stare at them a moment, wondering why they're there. It comes back in a rush. The evening past.

Its habit that I look down at my hands looking for the blood. My heart begins to race but I can see it's not there though. My skin is clean. I'm clean. I look back at the heap of clothes and kick at them a little with my toe, shifting them this way and that, to see if they are covered in it. They aren't and I sigh just a little.

I look at myself long and hard in the bathroom mirror, turning my face side to side to make sure. But I'm sure. There's nothing there. I don't smell it, or see it, but the sick feeling in my stomach is there again.

I look back to the pile. They're my clothes. Jeans, shirt, socks. And hers. Just her jeans and socks, but they are hers. We'd been undressed. Naked even. She'd taken care of me. I remembered. She'd showered with me. She'd cleaned it off me. She'd washed me clean of it even though it was only ever in my brain that I'd been covered in it at all. But she'd done that for me even when she'd had no clue what I'd been seeing on myself.

For me. Bella did it for me.

The sickness in my belly is quickly replaced by the rush of affection I feel for the woman who stood beneath the shower head with me. Cleaning me of what only I'd been able to see. She'd helped me, worried for me, cleansed me despite not knowing what the hell I'd needed cleansing for.

Even I didn't know. Oh I knew about the blood. That I remembered. Blood. Lots of it. All over me. I knew it wasn't imaginary, not back then. I knew it was imaginary now though. But not then. But she didn't know and yet she'd indulged me. Helped me. Cared for me.

That rush of affection floods my system then and I pull the towel off the bar and wrap it around my waist so I can tiptoe back through the room to my bag on the floor beside the bed. I'm eager to be with her. Near her. Beside her.

This woman who cares for me even though she cannot see and smell, taste and feel what I taste when I remember it.

I pull on clean boxers, throw the towel over the bag and then slide back into the bed next to her. She whimpers a little at the coldness of my feet after standing on the tiles but she snuggles down, allowing me to pull her back to my chest, and whispers a soft goodnight to me.

"I'm trying to come back to you," I whisper against her hair as I close my eyes.

**BPOV**

I hear growling and then a low chuckle as I come awake. I roll and find warm, male body on the other side of the bed.

I hear the rumble of a growl again and crack open an eye to see what it is.

"It's your stomach," Edward chuckles in the dark. "We missed dinner."

I lay still and wait and a few seconds later the growling starts again and I too chuckle. "I guess I'm hungry."

"I'm starving," he laughs as he rolls back over onto his back, lifting his arm for me so that I can slide onto his chest. "I don't want to wake anyone else up by going to find food though."

"What time is it?" I ask with a yawn.

"Just after four," he yawns back. "We've just slept for twelve hours."

"Not exactly," I smirk. "We did wake up for a bit in the middle there."

"Yeah, I was definitely up in the middle there," he says and I don't need to be able to see his face to know that he's smiling.

My stomach growls again and then he's laughing again. "Screw it, let's go and get something to eat."

"We'll be quiet," I agree as I slip out from under his arm.

"One thing first," he says, pulling me back to him by the arm. "Kiss me good morning?"

I smile but I have no idea if he can see it. I kiss him hard, morning breath be dammed, and cling to him. He pushes me back a little so that I'm half lying underneath him and then deepens the kiss.

I'd spent pretty much my entire teenage years wondering – and fantasising – about what it would feel like to be kissed by Edward Cullen and now that I was I realise that I'd had no fucking clue how good it could be! My teenage self had never dreamed just how wonderful it would be.

All too soon he pulls away, tempering the kiss and leaving a trail of smaller ones along my cheek until he's at my ear. "I apologise for not asking after you the day we left to come here," he whispers, peppering the shell of my ear with little, breathy kisses between the words. "It's true that Emmett told me to stay away but I want you to know that I thought of you every minute."

"Thank you," I grin though he can't see it. "And I'm sorry I upset you like I did," say sincerely.

"We'll talk about that at some point, but not right now," he says matter of factly. "Right now I'm happier than I can ever remember being and I don't want to do or say anything that'll spoil that."

"Deal," I grin because I am happier than I could ever remember being too, and I had my whole life's worth of memories to think over, unlike him.

My stomach growls again and the mood switches with it. He's chuckling again as he kisses me on the cheek and then he's sliding across the bed and getting out. I go too. I pull on some sweat pants while he pulls on jeans and tugs a t-shirt over his head.

I stifle a giggle as we go down the stairs because in the dim light of the living room I can see that he's got a serious case of bed-head going on. I run a hand over my own head and realise I have too so I keep my mouth firmly shut and do my best to smooth it out as we make our way to the kitchen.

He opens the fridge and stares into it while I set the kettle to boil. "They had chicken by the look of the leftovers. Does that suit you?" he asks as he sets a dish on the counter quietly.

"I don't care, anything will do," I tell him as I set out two mugs.

"Pass me that loaf of bread," he whispers across the counter. "I'll turn the meat into sandwiches."

"Tea or coffee?" I whisper.

"Oh, tea, I'm dying for a cup of tea," he groans as he goes back to the fridge for butter and a dish of salad leftovers. "Do you want mayo on yours?"

"Just a little," I tell him as I pour water over the teabag in his cup and over the coffee in mine.

"Can I sneak out for a smoke before we go back up?" he asks, head tilted to the side a little as though he's waiting for me to argue.

"You can do anything you like," I tell him simply.

"Come with?" he asks next, throwing a nod towards the glass doors.

I nod that I will, though I have no intention of actually smoking with him, and follow him outside. It's freezing and the yard's covered in fog. I can't even see the barn it's so thick.

I hear the flick and hiss of his lighter and turn to watch him take the first drag. He looks...he looks satisfied I think to myself. Happy and satisfied.

"Do you hate that I do this?" he asks.

"No," I say truthfully as I turn to face him, leaning on the railing with my back to the yard. "You always did it. It's a part of who you are."

"I don't smoke much and never when I'm shooting," he tells me before taking another drag.

"You didn't back then either. The continuity people would've gone nuts you used to say."

"They still would," he chuckles. "It changes the pitch of my voice, if I've smoked a lot, and the editing guys would throw a clot."

"You aren't filming right now so enjoy it," I chuckle.

"I've only got a couple left so I can't enjoy it that much," he chuckles back.

We stand in silence while he finishes and after he's butted it out in the ashtray on the wooden table he nods back towards the kitchen.

A minute later I have a mug of coffee in one hand and a chicken and salad sandwich on a plate in the other. He wipes the crumbs off the counter and then picks up his own plate. He nods towards the stairs and I follow.

I'd follow him anywhere after all.

We sit up against the pillows in our bed and munch happily on our makeshift meal. We're almost silent save for the odd slurp of our drinks and the sound of our teeth making quick work of the sandwiches but it's no longer an awkward silence between us. We're passed that now.

When I'm done I set my plate and mug on the bedside table and sneak across the hall to use the bathroom, including brushing my teeth. When I go back into the bedroom he excuses himself and he too tiptoes across the hall.

When he comes back he smells of toothpaste just like I do and I grin in the dark at the reasoning behind him having brushed his teeth. I was hoping he'd been thinking about kissing me again. I didn't have to wait long to find out because the instant he is back beneath the covers he pulls me by the hips until I'm lying flat out on his body.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers between us as he brushes my hair back from my face.

I lean over a little and kiss him, loving the feel of his soft lips against mine and his lean body beneath me. He's wearing only boxers again and I'm back down to just a t-shirt and panties so I can feel almost all of him against almost all of me.

I brace myself on my hands as I hover over him and deepen the kiss. His tongue meets mine as our lips part simultaneously. I groan into his mouth as he begins to stroke my tongue. Back and forth, back and forth in a lazy rhythm.

I begin to slowly grind myself over his pelvis, hoping to awaken another part of him. His hands cover my rump, though he's not pushing or pulling. I grind a little harder and kiss him a little harder too but he's not responding with the same fervour I can feel building inside me.

"Wait," he gasps as he stills my body with his hands at my hips. "Wait," he whispers again as he drags in oxygen.

"What's wrong?" I ask, breathless myself.

"I can tell you anything, right?" he whispers in the dark.

I lean forwards and kiss his chin softly. "Anything," I agree, "I'd never betray your confidence, I promise."

He kisses me then, just lightly, it's sweet and filled with promise but the desperation has gone out of it. "I know you wouldn't. So I need to tell you some things. Will you listen?" he asks solemnly.

I'm nervous then, worried for what's coming and if his 'things' contain confessions I'm not going to like. "I'll listen," I tell him earnestly.

He takes a deep breath and I close my eyes, waiting for the happiness I'm feeling to evaporate with his words. "I don't know if I've ever had sex before," he whispers.

"Oh god," I whisper right back, trying to shift my body so I'm no longer lying on the length of him. "I never stopped to think about..." I trail off.

"No, don't," he insists, pulling me back onto his chest. "Stay there. I like you there. It's just," he stammers, "Jesus. It's just that I don't even know if I've ever kissed anyone before let alone done anything else," he admits quietly. "For all I know what we did earlier is as far as I've ever gone. Emmett told me he'd seen pictures of me with women, actresses mostly, but even he doesn't know if I was actually dating them or if I was just being seen with them for publicity type stuff. I've Googled myself but those are just pictures and gossip. Do you know if I ever properly dated anyone?"

The conversation is ridiculous but important. "I don't know for sure," I admit against his lips. "I remember seeing pictures too but you never had anyone at the house with you when I was there so I can't say for sure."

"I've been alone for five years, that I know for sure," he whispers against my lips. "I don't know how to be with someone now and I don't know if I knew how to be with someone before. I'm scared."

I kiss him a little more firmly than the gentle pecks we'd been exchanging. "Don't be afraid," I beg of him. "We're friends first and the rest will come in time. I've been married and I'm not convinced I know what I'm doing," I laugh lightly. "I just know that I care about you and I want you to be happy. That's all that matters to me."

"What's it like? Being married? Sharing your life with someone?"

"I'm the wrong person to ask," I mumble. "Mine wasn't a happy marriage even though I thought it was at the start. But I know now that it wasn't and it was a mistake. A big one. So I guess we'll learn how to be together, together."

"What if I'm terrible at it? What if I keep hurting your feelings and I'm so fucked up and out of it that I don't realise? What if I keep forgetting hours or days and its time with you I forget? What if I never remember?"

I want to reassure him that he will but I don't know it for certain so I don't. Instead I take a giant leap of faith. I cup his face in the palms of my hands and kiss him gently. "If you never remember, if you keep losing hours and days, then I'll be the one by your side who'll fill in the blanks for you.

"And I'll make you a promise right now, Edward, if you hurt my feelings I won't sulk again. I'll tell you right away and we'll work it out together. We'll lean on each other, if you want to."

"I want to," he says right away in return. "And I do want to remember. And I want to get better. And I want it to be you I lean on. But you can lean on me too. I want you to, even if I'm crap at it. I remember what you said this afternoon. I heard you. I know you've had to deal with the pain of losing your dad all alone. I want to remember and I want to deal with it and I want to grieve properly for him because I believe you when you tell me that he loved me."

"He did," I croak as my eyes fill with tears. "He did love you and I know that you loved him back. But I've changed my mind," I say against his lips. "I don't want you to remember if it tears you apart. I don't want you passing out, or getting sick or anything else because we push so hard to get you to remember."

"That's sweet," he says as he strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers, "but not practical. My brain is trying to protect me by hiding information. Rose tells me that. I won't remember if I'm not pushed to. She says I have to be pushed. I don't like it either, getting sick and all that, but I do understand what everyone is trying to do for me."

"You do?" I ask, shocked at the revelation.

"Of course," he says against my lips. "And I know that the effort has been stepped up since you came back into my life."

"Emmett thinks..." I begin but I'm cut off by his finger against my lips.

"Emmett's having Rosie prod me harder and he's working with you to push me too. I know. There's still a lot I don't understand, and there's probably a lot that you could tell me, but for now I'm okay knowing _just_ that. I think I'm going to get worse before I get better, aren't I?"

"Oh Edward," I whimper against his throat. "I don't want this for you."

"I know baby," he croons, kissing my hair. "Oh, is it okay to call you baby? Is it weird? Stupid?"

"In private its fine," I giggle, sitting back up so I can see his face in the weak morning light. "But I don't want to see or hear it in an interview or anything," I scold.

"Understood," he replies seriously. "And for the record I hate being called Eddie," he chuckles.

"I know that," I laugh. "You hated that before too."

"At least something's the same then."

"You're still the sexiest thing on two legs I've ever seen. That hasn't changed," I giggle.

"If only I knew what to do with all this sexy," he huffs playfully.

"You're doing just fine," I tell him, kissing him lightly on the lips.

"I think I'll need lots of practise," he chuckles, bucking his hips up into me.

"Well, I did think I was going to be bored all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. We could use the time productively," I suggest.

He stares at me a moment before grinning. "Do you think Emmett put us together on purpose?"

"Probably," I giggle.

"Did he send you out with Garrett to annoy me?"

"Em didn't send me, I went of my own accord," I tell him truthfully.

"But he didn't set me straight when I threw a tantrum over it," he chuckles beneath me.

"A tantrum?" I ask, wide eyed. "You were jealous of Garrett?"

"Yes, a tantrum," he says before kissing me soundly on the lips. "And yes, I was jealous of Garrett. And Seth. And anyone else who gets your attention."

"But Garrett was just helping me relearn how to shoot. And Seth's just..." I begin defending the guys but Edward cuts me off with another resounding kiss.

"Anyone who gets your attention is going to piss me off," he says as he lies his head back down on the pillow at the conclusion of our very intense kiss. "I've got no idea if I was territorial before or even if I got jealous before, but this is who I am right now," he chuckles.

"Well then. Let's hope that this part of you stays once you've remembered," I giggle and lower my lips back to his.

Our peace, as well as our libido's, are interrupted as the others in the house wake up and got moving for the day.

I'm not sure which of us decides not to continue kissing but we stop. Which of course stops any hope of us being able to do anything else too.

Phones start ringing, showers come on, toilets are flushed and someone creates a hell of a racket in the kitchen. This doesn't do much for creating an environment suitable for loving so after a lengthy whine from him and a bit of outright bitching from me we snuggle down under the covers and decide to wait until the others went to work, wherever that was, until we crept downstairs for more food for ourselves.

**Emmett POV**

"Who the fuck is this guy?" I hiss as I look down at the page Alice has handed me.

"No clue, boss," she tells me as she taps the keys. "Either he's exactly what that report says he is or he's good at hiding shit."

"Anyone want to offer an opinion one way or the other?" I ask as I read over Jacob Blacks driving history and banking details.

"Asshole," Alice says matter of factly.

"Asshole," Jasper agrees.

"Major Asshole," Seth chimes in.

"Well then, he's probably an asshole," I chuckle. "Now I want reasons."

"Bella ditched his ass, what more reason do I need?" Alice laughs.

"Female solidarity," I chuckle. "Find me a real reason for your distaste and we'll see what's what," I tell her. "Jasper?"

"Nobody's that clean," he offers matter of factly. "Even Bella steals music off the net, this guys _too_ clean."

"I agree. He's hiding something. What about you?" I ask Seth.

"I talked to a few of the guys at the restaurant. They all said the guy was a possessive, control freak asshole. That's my reason," he shrugs.

"Asshole does not a threat make," I mumble. "I agree that he looks too clean on paper but that's not going to get me far. Keep working on it," I tell Alice. "Where are you at with the employee list?" I ask Jasper.

"Another hour, maybe two, and I'll have it," he tells me.

"And you," I nod at Seth, "What did Emily have to say?"

"Just to watch for things out of the ordinary. I reminded her that Ed himself is out of the ordinary, but she didn't laugh. Um, other than that as long as he actually did wake up under his own steam she said just to watch and listen."

"Well we know he woke up because they made food together at four, so I guess we watch and listen. They waited for us all to be out of the kitchen this morning before they came downstairs so I'm guessing they want to be alone. I'm good with that and I want you all to give them as much space as possible today.

"Alice, keep working on Black. Jasper keep me posted about that list and Seth, I want you to check in with Leah and Sam and call me with their reports from overnight. I'm going in to town to see my mother. Call me if you need me."

Three calls of 'on it boss' echo around the room as I go up the stairs to the main floor of my house. I'm checking that my phone has full charge when I hear my name spoken behind me.

"You okay?" I ask as I turn and see Bella perched on the arm of the sofa in the living room.

"I'll live," she mutters darkly. "Going somewhere?" she asks, nodding towards the keys dangling from my fingers.

She aint happy with me but I am prepared for that. "To see my mother. Any problems press your alarm," I tell her as I move to the door. I am unwilling to engage in a verbal stoush with her, not so soon after Ed's collapse the night before. I'd taken the blame onto my own shoulders for his passing out, just as I'd promised her I would when we'd discussed pushing him that far.

"Edward needs more cigarettes," she says as I reach for the doorknob.

"I'll bring him some. Do you need anything?" I ask, not turning around to look at her.

"The papers. From the city, not the local ones," she says carefully, but firmly. I'm about to ask why she wants them when she continues. "We have a right to know what's being said about us," she tells me straight up and I nod my agreement. She doesn't need to know it's a reluctant agreement.

"Is he alright?" I ask, still with my back to her and one hand on the doorknob.

"He will be. Once he remembers everything."

"Are you going to tell him?" I ask.

"No. We are. When you come back."

"Everything?" I ask, heart in my throat.

"Everything we do know," she agrees.

"Done. I'll be two hours. Be ready," I tell her as I turn the handle and open the door.

"You too, Em," she says quietly as I go through the door.

I drive down the driveway with hands shaking and heart thumping. I use speedial on my phone and set it to speaker as I turn onto Black Spring.

"Em?" she says as she answers.

"It's time, Rosie," I tell her simply.

"Yeah, I figured it would be soon," she sighs. "Alright, here's how you're going to do it..."

**EPOV**

"Feel better?" Bella asks as I go back into the bedroom after my shower.

"Much," I grin as I throw my dirty clothes on top of my bag.

"Come and sit a minute," she says, patting the space beside her on the bed. I do as she asks and let her take my hand into her lap. "Em's gone to see his mom," she whispers. "He'll be gone for another hour or so and when he comes back we're going to talk with him a bit."

"Alright," I whisper back. I'm unsure why we're whispering and unsure what we're talking to him about.

"Last night, or this morning, or whenever it was, you said you understood that everyone is pushing your buttons on purpose right now. That's true. We are. And I want you to know and understand that none of us like doing it," she says very slowly and very quietly.

"Alright," I say again.

"And you also said that you realise that I know things about you, that Em knows things about you," she repeats for me.

"And you want to tell me them," I finish for her.

"I think you need to hear them," she says as she turns her body to face me. I can see the tears threatening to fall and desperately want to comfort her but she's being strong for me, on my behalf, so I do nothing. "I think that it might help you to remember other things if we explain to you why and how you're losing hours and days."

"I want to know. I want to understand," I tell her truthfully.

"Good," she says with a firm nod. "It might upset you. You might get sick when we tell you so I think you have the right to decide for yourself if you want to listen, knowing it might make you sick if we do."

"Will you stay with me if I get sick?" I ask.

"Of course I will," she smiles as she lifts a hand and cups my cheek.

I turn my lips into her palm and kiss it softly. "I want to understand myself," I tell her.

"Then we'll keep busy until he comes back and then we'll sit and talk about it all, okay?"

"Busy's good," I nod. "I need to do some laundry," I offer by way of suggestion.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," she giggles before leaning over and kissing me hard on the lips.

"I um, used one of my shirts to um, clean up last night," I stammer.

"Then laundry it is," she laughs as she gets up. She tugs on my hand so I get to my feet too and then she wraps her arms around me and settles herself up under my chin. "Please believe I don't want this for you," she murmurs against my throat.

"Please believe I'll do anything I need to do to help you learn what happened that day," I tell her earnestly.

**BPOV**

"How dare she!" I hiss as I reread the article again.

"That's a fucking lie," Edward seethes beside me as he rereads Tanya's comments in a different newspaper. "And this bit, 'Edward and I remain close friends despite our parting for creative differences', that's laughable!" he grunts as he throws the page back onto the table.

"Here," I tell him, pointing to the part I want to read out, "Miss Swan's relationship with Edward began many years ago when she was just a child. I'm almost certain that nothing improper would have gone on between them then, though now it's anyone's guess' comments Ms Denali with a grin when asked the nature of her former client's relationship. Surely that's libellous?" I ask.

"If it is my lawyer will know," he says through gritted teeth.

"She's vile," I bite out through my own.

"At least this one thinks I'll do well with Aro," Edward concedes as he tosses the paper towards me.

I read a little, and even manage to smile at the nice things Aro's said on our behalf, but I'm so, so mad at Tanya.

"I need a smoke," Edward declares as he pushes his chair backwards. "Come with?" he asks, throwing his head in the direction of the door.

"Yeah," I huff as I rise. I'm pleased to be getting away from the newspapers.

He takes my hand as we hit the yard and then we're running, and laughing, as he drags me behind the barn and kisses me senseless.

A smoke my ass.

**Emmett POV**

Ed says he needs the bathroom and Bella looks as though she'd rather be anywhere else than with me preparing to lay our cards on the table.

"Before he comes back..." she begins in a choked voice, "why do you think he passed out rather than switching yesterday?" she asks in a whisper.

"I talked to Rose," I whisper back, "She's not any surer than I am, but we both agree it's either one thing or another. It's either a sign he's making progress and he won't switch again now, or we pushed him so hard his brain just shut completely down and didn't bother with the protection mechanisms of James or Rupert. Rose says there's no real way to tell except to observe."

Bella thinks on it a moment and right before Ed joins us in the living room she gives me a weak nod.

"What is that?" Edward asks as I sit opposite him in my living room a few moments later.

"A journal," I tell him, holding it out for him. "What's in it might not make a lot of sense to you right now but you're welcome to read it."

He looks to Bella before looking back at me and shakes his head. "There's no point if I won't understand it."

"You can read it after we've talked then," I say as I put the book on the arm of my chair. "I talked to Rosalie earlier and she said I should have you call her if you want to talk to her first, before we do this."

Again he looks to Bella before turning back to me. "Please just tell me, you're scaring me."

"Alright. Rose has diagnosed you with something called dissociative identity disorder," I tell him slowly. "Do you know what that is?" I ask but he's shaking his head before I'm finished asking. "It's a problem in your brain that you've been suffering because of a trauma you experienced five or so years ago.

"Anything that happens to you, or causes you a significant amount of stress, set off triggers in your brain. When that happens you alter yourself so you can better accept and deal with the stress."

"I alter myself?" he asks. "What does that mean?"

"You slip into other personalities," Bella tells him far more simply than I was going to.

Ed's brow creases immediately. "I don't understand."

"There are two very different other personalities that live inside your brain when you're stressed," I tell him carefully. "Depending on the amount of stress you're under you switch to one or either of them."

"What?" he asks, clearly not believing me. "You can't be serious?"

"He is," Bella tells him firmly.

"You think that I become someone else entirely when I'm upset?" he asks, clearly sceptical.

"No," Bella tells him and I'm about to interrupt her and tell him that yes, that's exactly what we think, when she continues. "We don't _think_ that's what you do, Edward. It's what we _know_ you do."

"Who do I become then?" he asks belligerently.

"Like I said, there are two different personalities, besides the one you actually really are. When things are only just a bit stressful you become James Goodall and when things get seriously out of control for you you become Rupert Sizemore," I tell him.

He starts laughing, "You're fucking nuts," he crows. "You've watched too many of my movies. You _know_ that James Goodall is just a character I play, Em," he laughs. "He's not real. I _know_ he's not real. He's just a character and I read from a script given to me by the screen writers. I can't become James Goodall because he's a fictional character," he chuckles.

"When you get stressed you believe you're James Goodall," Bella tells him patiently. "All the traits you show on the screen when you're playing him come out in you when you switch to _being_ him under stress."

"You too?" he laughs, staring at her.

"We aren't laughing," she scolds. "It's not funny. We aren't kidding. When you get stressed you switch to being James Goodall and I know it sounds nuts but I've seen you do it. I've watched it happen."

"Yeah, okay, you've seen me being James Goodall. Good one," he laughs again. "And you paid eighteen bucks for the privilege just like everyone else who's seen the Mission series."

She turns sad eyes to me and grimaces. I do as Rosie suggests and change tack. "Rupert Sizemore is a thirty something Scottish playboy who thinks he's sex on legs and irresistible to women," I tell him straight up. "He chats up anything with tits and has been slapped more times than I can recall accurately."

"A Scottish playboy?" Ed laughs. "Yeah, right. Good one, Em. When I get stressed out I turn into a Scotsman."

I look to Bella who's got her eyes cast down. So I steel myself to tell him the things Rosie believes will make him believe us. "Rupert's gotten you thrown out of Honeycut nightclub for propositioning the owners daughter, in front of him, and he's also gotten you banned from Providence restaurant for attempting to lick the wrist of the sous chef. Last year you attended the Dior show during fashion week. Someone let off a party popper backstage and you got a fright, thinking it was a gun going off.

"You switched to being Rupert before I could get you out of there. You took one look at the dozen leggy models standing around and thought you were at a smorgasbord.

"You thought you'd pulled out a roll of money and you started throwing it at the girls, thinking they were strippers there for your entertainment.

"Security was going to kick your ass but I managed to cool things down and got you out of there. Rupert gets you, and by extension me, into all sorts of trouble, Ed."

His eyes are wide but I can see he's still not buying it. "What was I actually throwing at them then?" he asks.

"You were bored during the show and you'd ripped the programme into little squares. You were throwing the pieces at the girls," I sigh.

"You should write scripts," he laughs.

"You asked Tanya for a lap dance at the end of shoot party last May," I sigh. "You thought you had money in your pocket but it was just a receipt from the coat check otherwise she probably would've done it."

He stares at me and I see that that one little piece of information might have struck a chord. Never, when he was in his right mind, would he proposition Tanya Denali.

"I'd know," he mumbles, clearly lost.

"Rose says you wouldn't and you don't," I tell him truthfully. "Your alternate personalities don't know you and they don't know each other. Rupert doesn't recall things that happen to you when you're being James and you don't recall anything you've done or said after you've been one of them."

"I admit that I lose hours and sometimes days, but this can't be why," he moans, clutching at his temples.

Bella notices too and she's quick to pull his left hand down and pull it into her lap with hers. "Do you want to talk to Rose?" she asks softly.

He shakes his head. "It can't be true. I'd know. I would," he moans.

"You don't know though, do you?" I ask. "You don't remember anything about the hours you lose. You wake up sore and aching and usually with a headache and those things are all symptoms of this disorder."

"I work out too hard sometimes," he counters.

"No," I tell him firmly. "Your bruises, cuts and scrapes and most of your aches as well you get when you're being James. You honestly believe you're a spy and you invent things. When you test those things you hurt yourself. That's why you wake up with odd injuries you don't remember getting."

He stares at me a long minute. "Prove it," he challenges, just as Rosie said he would.

I open the journal and read from a random page. "May twelfth," I read. "Ed used another new eBay account to buy a jet pack. It's almost as good as a military grade one and as soon as it's out of its packaging he insists on trying it out.

"Before I can stop him he's on the roof of the pool house, jetpack strapped to his back. Result: three stitches behind his right ear and bruises to his upper torso." I flip a random number of pages and read again. "September ninth. Ed demands I source a miniature remote controlled submarine and a waterproof taser. I inform him there is no such thing as a waterproof taser. He asks for a concussion grenade instead. Result: no purchases made.

"December four. Ed used another new eBay account to buy a canister of tear gas and a model airplane. Says he wants to use it for surveillance of the grounds. Might work, can see no potential for injury and have given the go ahead.

"December ten. Tear gas and model arrive. Ed announces he is going to the 'hangar' to test his invention. The hangar is the garden shed by the pool fence. Twenty minutes passes. Mark found in garden shed having let off gas canister by accident. Result: twelve hours in emergency under observation.

"March first. Deliveries of tungsten, lead sheeting, osmium and various pieces of riot gear. Ed wants to invent an exo-skeleton. It's to be full body armour. After some research the materials seem harmless, have given the go ahead.

"March second. Find the mark on his back, exo-skeleton complete and in place, unable to move. Approximate weight of the suit fifty pounds. Result: concussion, two stitches to right wrist. You want me to keep going?" I ask, looking up from the page.

"It might be a brain tumour. You hear of that all the time," he says, but the fights gone out of him by now.

"It's not," I tell him simply. "You had the scans done on," I pause, flipping to the front of the journal, "October third, two days after your first visit with Rose. The results were clear. Negative of any actual brain injury or physical defect."

"Drugs," he says, scrabbling for any reason other than the one I'd given him. "Drugs can make you act weird. Maybe I was a drug addict?"

I open the journal again and hear him sigh before I tell him he was tested and came up clean.

"Alcohol?" he asks, tears now streaming down his face.

"You never were a big drinker," Bella whispers, tears falling from her eyes now too.

"Something environmental," he says, almost choking in defeat.

"Ed, I'm sorry," I tell him. "But it's the truth. I wish it wasn't, but it is."

"Have you seen this? Have _you_ seen me do this?" he asks, turning to face Bella.

I wince because I know she won't lie to him, and nor should she, but I know he's going to be crushed when he learns that she has because then it won't be just me telling him this. She'll reinforce it and he'll be gutted.

"I met Rupert the night you came for dinner the first time to the restaurant," she whispers. "And I met James only a few days ago, when that letter was delivered during your interviews."

"Is this why I smell and taste blood all the time?" he asks, directing the question to me. "Is whatever's going on in my brain making me believe that too?"

"No," I sigh. "No, that isn't a part of this. Ed," I say gently, leaning forward a little, "Rose thinks you smell and taste blood because you actually did. She thinks you might have been there the day Charlie was killed and that his blood ..." I don't get to finish. "He's going to switch," I tell Bella.

"How do you..." she gets out, but she can see for herself the change in him.

"If its Rupert I want you to go upstairs and stay there until I tell you otherwise," I tell her as I get to my feet and put the journal behind a picture frame on the mantle. "If he's James I need you to..." I say hurriedly, but I'm out of time.

Ed hunches forward, hiding his eyes, but I'd seen the twitch and the glassiness before he bowed his head over his knees. When he sits back up he's different. The cockiness is present in his posture and Bella instinctively backs away, dropping his hand back into his lap.

"Edward?" she asks, making me cringe. He hated being called Edward if he was James and if he came back as Rupert...well.

"It's James," he spits as he gets to his feet. "Where the hell are we?"

"One moment, James," I tell him firmly as I move around the armchair and go to Bella's side by the sofa. "Push," I say as quietly as I can and still be heard by her.

Her expression is blank, and Ed is staring right at her, and as she goes to open her mouth to ask what the hell I'm on about I shake my head minutely and cast my eyes down to her jeans pocket.

Understanding dawns quickly and I move between her and Ed so he can't see her take out her personal alarm. "You instructed me to bring you to the secret operations base," I tell him with as much of a straight face as I can. I hear the telltale chime of Bella's alarm going off on my phone but I ignore it, knowing someone will come upstairs any second and take her out of the line of fire.

"I did?" Ed asks as he turns to stare at his surroundings.

"Yes, sir," I tell him seriously. "You said your mission had been compromised and I was to take you and your team to safety. You've slept the whole way up here but I have your mission review tapes right here," I say with a wave of my hand to the coffee table.

"Well then, I'll add a point to your score this month for being competent in this matter," he says condescendingly at the same time as Alice comes into the living room from the direction of the kitchen. "Who are these women?" he asks me, leaning closer.

"The help," I say noncommittally. "And they're going back below floors now so you won't be disturbed as you review your tapes, sir. Off you go girls, back downstairs. And make sure Mr Goodall's combat attire is pressed and ready for its next use please."

I feel ridiculous saying these things but Alice – and hopefully Bella too – will forgive me.

"Yes sir," Alice chirps happily. "Come on Bella, I'll show you how Mr Goodall likes his laundry done."

Bella, bless her, says nothing. She just nods and allows Alice to lead her back through the ground floor of the house. "All the tapes are here, sir. Do you wish to start with the first?" I ask as I pick up the first of three Shadow Mission movies on DVD from the coffee table.

"Please," he says with a wave of his hand as he sits back down. "And ask the help not to come back in here until I call for them. I won't have this mission compromised further."

"Yes sir," I tell him as I push the first disc into the DVD player. I hand him the remote and stand aside as the opening credits come up on the screen. "Will there be anything else or may I go and oversee the help?"

"That'll be all," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

I find Alice and Bella standing stock still in the laundry room waiting for me. "Go ahead, Alice," I tell her with a firm nod. She puts her hand flat to the wall beside the washer and dryer and gives a little shove. Once the magnetic concealed door is open I hold it and wave both girls through.

At the bottom of the narrow staircase Alice trots back to her makeshift desk and starts tapping away immediately on the keyboard there. Bella, after having gone through the door at the foot of the stairs, stops just inside the room.

"What the fuck?" she asks, turning to me, her eyes still sparkling from unshed tears.

I shrug, "Welcome to my games room," I tell her.

"Hey Jasper," she murmurs as she goes by him and further into the room. "Hey Seth."

"Hey, boss. You okay?" he asks, lifting his eyes from the pages he's studying.

"Yeah, I'm alright," she mumbles. "What the hell is this place?" she asks as she takes it all in.

"Safe," I tell her matter of factly. "The old guy I bought the place off built it as a bomb shelter or a storm cellar or something. I just tweaked it a little bit," I chuckle.

"Tweaked," she scoffs as she runs her fingers over the metal sheeting that lines the walls. The others go back to their work but I watch her as she moves around the space. She flinches when she comes to the wall of monitors and I know what she's going to ask before she does. "Please tell me you can't," she starts but I cut her off.

"I can't and I don't want to see you in private spaces," I tell her truthfully. "The hallways and for want of a better word 'public' spaces yes, but not the bedrooms or bathrooms."

"Audio?" she asks astutely.

"In public spaces yes."

"At Ed's house?" she asks.

"The whole house," I tell her truthfully, "but I turn the feed off, including the audio, when you're with him. In every room you're in with him I'm blind and deaf."

"My house?" she asks warily.

"No," I shake my head. "A regular alarm system went in to boost what you already had, but nothing else."

"The restaurant?"

"Only the things you already know about. Apart from the tracer on your phone line," I add at the end, in case she felt like slapping me again I decide to be one hundred percent up front with her.

"Does he know about any of this?" she asks with a wave of her hand towards the armoury behind its bulletproof glass cabinet.

"God no," I chuckle.

"How did you know he was going to switch just now?" she asks, her bottom lip trembling just a little.

"Come and sit down," I tell her, motioning to the sofa at the far end of the space. "Go and grab some juice," I tell Seth as I go by him. I wait until she's sitting beside me and then I point to the monitor that is showing Ed in the living room. "He's perfectly fine up there. He'll sit there for hours watching those movies and if he moves we'll see."

She stares at the monitor for a moment, fighting the tears and the panic, and probably a good portion of guilt and anguish too. "How did you know?" she asks again.

"He's got a few tells," I tell her quietly. "His eyelids twitch and he clutches at his temples. Sometimes at his head, sometimes he rubs the back of his neck. He'll usually slump over and when he sits back up he's more alert, sort of like he's ready for action."

She nods when I'm done and when Seth comes back with a little glass bottle of juice I ask her to drink the whole thing. The sugar would do her system good; she looked ready to crash herself.

"Will he remember what we told him?" she asks as she sets the empty bottle on the floor by the sofa.

"Yeah," I sigh. "He was himself as we told him, so yeah."

"What are they doing?" she whispers, nodding towards Alice and Jasper who are still tapping away.

I figure in for a penny in for a pound so I stand, "Ask them, they'll explain it better than I can."

**BPOV**

I stay put on the sofa for a few minutes just watching. Alice is engrossed in what looks like a dozen or more open web pages at once while Jasper is scribbling notes on a sheet of paper every few seconds after taking brief looks at whatever his screen is showing him.

Seth, who didn't seem to have an actual assigned desk to work at, is typing on a laptop that he has perched on his knees. Emmett had gone to sit across from Jasper and looks to be reading over the pages that are spewing fairly constantly from a printer that's sitting on top of a little bar fridge by the wall.

"What are you doing?" I ask Seth as he's closest to where I'm sitting.

"Homework," he says with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

"You're studying?" I ask as I scoot to the other end of the sofa so I'm nearer to him.

"If you work for Emmett you're always studying," he chuckles.

"Emmett's set you homework?" I ask sceptically.

"Yep," he clucks as he turns the laptop screen so that I can see it. "I'm four fifths done with my apprenticeship. This module is about short range communication, and it's boring as hell boss!" he shouts at a grinning Emmett. "I've got four more to go in this section and then, once I pass, I'll be pay grade four and can have my own team."

"If you pass," Emmett chuckles.

"I'll pass," Seth crows. "I'm the best he's got, besides you Jaz."

"Punk," Jasper laughs.

"Are you studying too?" I ask as I go over by Jasper's desk.

"Nope. I'm already fully qualified," he tells me without looking up from what he's doing.

"So what are you up to then?" I ask as the printer begins spitting out pages again.

He looks up, but not at me, at Emmett. Who nods just once and then puts his head back down over the sheets he'd been reading.

"My expertise lies in hacking," Jasper tells me as he hands me a stack of printed pages. "Although Alice is much better at it than me."

"You bet your sweet ass I am," she giggles without looking up from her own work.

"I have no idea what I'm looking at," I laugh as I hand Jasper back his papers. "So what are you up to, Alice?" I ask.

She too looks to Emmett, who again nods firmly just once. "I'm hacking into your ex husbands financial records," she grins, somewhat evilly.

"Jake? Why?" I ask, shocked.

Again she looks to Emmett, receives his nod, and then looks up at me. "You're an accountant, right?" she asks and when I tell her yes she scoots over on her chair and asks me to sit on it with her so I can see her screen. "Every month for the past five or so years your ex husband has received five thousand dollars from a bank account I'm having trouble tracing," she tells me, pointing to the screen. "I'll find the source but right now I'm working on unravelling his actual income. He's got some sort of code he uses for deposits. See these letters here, and then another code for credits. I'll crack it, I just haven't yet," she tells me.

I squint at the screen, making sure I'm right before I speak. "These credits here are from clients," I tell her, pointing to the lines. "He's still using the same system I set up when I started doing his books," I chuckle. "See here, the ones marked DP are down payments. Money paid by clients before a job begins.

"SR are services retainers. Some clients, once Jake's finished a job for them, keep him on their books so they don't have to wait until he's got free time to begin their newest jobs.

"Um, those there, the ones with the numbers followed by the letter P, those are the individual payments for jobs that are delivered or completed in more than one part. Sometimes a client will want photos and audio and they pay in pieces once he's delivered each section.

"CB, CB, what were those again. Oh yes! CB is completion bonus. Self explanatory that one. And that means that the ones marked RB are retrieval bonuses. If he's got to travel to go and collect someone, or something, he'll charge a separate fee.

"It's easy once you know the code," I tell her. "He's added this one, the five thousand you mentioned, I don't know what CUB means, that's new to me."

"What does he do for a living?" Emmett asks out of the blue.

"He's a private investigator. Business is good by the looks of it," I chuckle. Nobody else chuckles though. In fact, they're all staring at me. "What?" I ask, suddenly uneasy. "You must have known he was a PI if you've been researching him, surely?"

Em's shaking his head but I have no idea what that means. "Keep going," he says matter of factly, ignoring my question as he points back to the screen.

"Um, that's all the credits I can see but the debits are pretty standard. MG is mortgage, BI is business insurance. PI is his public liability insurance, which if he's still paying into the same fund, which I can see that he is, also covers his personal insurance for death and disability. BP is the rent for his business premises, though he's moved or upgraded to better digs by the looks of the cost these days.

"The rest is easy, Alice. ELEC for electricity. GAS for gas, COMMS is phone bills and CAR is, well, anything to do with the car. I figured you'd have worked those out pretty easy," I giggle.

"You used to do his books?" Emmett asks, still staring at me, making me feel uncomfortable.

"Yeah," I shrug. "Made sense seeing as I am a registered accountant. No point paying someone else to do them."

"Um, boss," Jasper coughs, taking Emmett's attention away from me for a blessed few seconds. "The programmes finished."

Emmett swings around on his chair and reaches to the printer for the last of the pages that have been spat out. "You're sure?" he asks Jasper who nods emphatically. He hands me the uppermost page and points to a line of print. "You say you didn't set up this code here, the CUB line?" he asks.

"No, that's not one of my codes. We never used that one when I was doing the books. What is this? What's going on?" I ask, looking back up at Em.

"This isn't Jakes bank account," he tells me, pointing to the page I'd just read. "This is Tanya Denali's bank account and this is a list of her past and current employees.

"So you tell me what's going on Bella because your ex husband appears on that list and the same code, CUB is used on the transfer of five thousand dollars once a month from Edward's previous agents bank account to your ex husbands bank account every month, starting from two weeks after your father was killed."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading.**

**Please review. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Emmett POV**

"Alright, alright, you're alright," I whisper as I push on her shoulders so she'll keep her head between her knees. "More juice thanks Seth," I say over my shoulder to her hovering bodyguard. "That's it, big deep breaths. You're alright."

"Here," Seth says, holding out another little bottle of juice. I pass it to her and watch as she gulps it down. "Let's get you up onto the sofa," I tell her as I bend to put my hands under her arms.

"Let me?" he begs. I step aside knowing it is only right. She is his mark. He wanted to be the one to help her, so I step away.

He settles her onto the end of the seat and then sits beside her. I'm relegated to sitting on my haunches on the floor in front of them both, but that's ok. That is my rightful place while Seth is tending to his mark. It had to be this way, him so invested in her wellbeing, and I'd continue to encourage it.

She'd shown remarkable resilience as she'd put the pieces of the puzzle together that were her ex husbands proclivities. She'd handled, with a clear mind and a clear voice, every question we'd aimed at her so that we could all bring those pieces together as a group. She'd even handled the interrogation I'd put her through to try and work out if she'd known about his actions all these years remarkably well. Of course she hadn't known though. I'd known that before I'd asked, even if I'd had to.

What she hadn't been able to handle, and what led to her feinting, was the fact that her ex husband probably had information about what happened to her father.

It wasn't one hundred percent a certainty yet, but she was as smart as a whip and even while the rest of us were mentally speculating she had been too.

Payments from Tanya to Jake, beginning only two weeks after her father's death, coupled with Tanya's admission as I'd escorted her to the taxi the day I kicked her out of Ed's house that she'd cleaned the mess up but not participated in Charlie's death meant only one thing for Bella.

Her ex husband knew something and he'd never told her.

She'd admitted to having been distraught, hysterical at times, when thoughts of not knowing how her father's death occurred overwhelmed her and never once did her husband say a word about it. Yet it now seemed likely he'd been there, likely before the police came to investigate, and the idea that someone so close to her had withheld information that might have set her head and heart at ease had broken her.

The letters CUB on the payments from Tanya's account were a mystery. We all had different theories.

Not one of us could say for certain what the payments were for, but one thing was crystal clear for us all. Tanya was making regular payments to Jacob Black and the reason behind those payments was insidious.

I'd caught her as she'd toppled over, and she was obviously embarrassed to have succumbed, but nobody thought any less of her for it.

She'd spent five years wondering, trying to piece it together for herself, and even with the tiny pieces of the puzzle we had now we still didn't have a full picture, so her reaction was expected and understood. Her agony over it was palpable as her bodyguard comforted her.

"Back to work," I tell Jasper and Alice quietly as I step away from the scene on the sofa. "They're both gonna crash soon so I'll go and make ready for that."

"You wanted this," Alice says quietly, handing me a sheet of paper from the bottom of a stack on the desk.

I read it, close my eyes and take a deep breath, and then tell her to bury it back in the bottom of her stack. Renee Swan nee Higginbotham had died when Bella was six, of breast cancer, leaving her only child with just her dad. I'd asked for a full history days ago and Alice had sat on that information, now I knew why.

Bella was an orphan and the information was of no use to our investigation. It made me admire the girl all the more for the way she'd conducted her life, all alone, all this time, never asking the one person who she could've leant on for a damn thing. And it made me just a little more glad that she'd come to us, scaled that wall and fallen from that three into our laps because now she could have a family again.

Ed thought he was an orphan too and it was a lie. I could give them both a family and I had the means and the inclination to do just that.

"Get me a current number for the Masens," I tell Jasper straight up. Bella gasps but says nothing. I look over to where she's cradled in her bodyguard's arms, tears streaming down her face. "Is there anyone I can call for you?" I ask her, knowing now that there isn't. She shakes her head and buries her face back into Seth's chest. "Any objections to them coming here?" I ask the room. Four heads shake as one. "Get me a number," I tell Jasper before going to the door.

"Boss, I already have one," he calls after me.

"You do?" I ask, though I'm not surprised. I walk back to his desk and take the slip of paper he's holding out for me. I check my watch and decide the time doesn't matter because they'll want the news I'm bringing them no matter what. I nod to him in thanks, push the paper into my jeans pocket and then leave the room.

I check on Ed who's still engrossed in his 'mission tapes', though he's lying full out on the sofa now, one hand under his cheek, his eyes heavy with fatigue. I leave him where he is and go back to the kitchen. I turn on the oven and slide two trays of store bought lasagne into it and then set out a frozen slab of chocolate cake to defrost on the counter.

With that done I stick my head around the corner of the living room, note that Ed's eyes are even droopier than they were before, and then make quick strides out of the house towards the barn.

I dial the instant I'm inside it, eager to get the conversation over with.

"Carlisle speaking_,"_ comes a soft, sad voice when the call connects.

"Carlisle Masen?" I ask.

"Yes_," _is his soft reply.

"Mr Masen, you don't know me, but I'm a friend of your sons..." is as far as I get.

"Is he alright?" is his hurried, desperate interruption.

"He's alive and well," I say, the white lie about his wellbeing better said than the truth. "I assure you that he's just fine, and I think it would do him the world of good to see you, and his mother right away."

"Esme! Esme!" I hear shouted though its muffled, probably yelled with his hand over the mouthpiece. _"_Someone's got him," I hear and sigh. _"_There's a man who says he's alright!"he says to who I assume is Ed's mother. "Please_,"_ he begs, "Just tell us where to meet you and we'll come right away. Please!_" _he bellows down the line.

I sit on the hay bale closest and scrub at my eyes with my free hand. "Mr Masen, please put this call on speaker so that your wife can hear me too." I wait, hear the click, and then dive right in. "My name is Emmett McCarty. I'm your son's bodyguard. I don't _have_ him, I protect him, and until a few days ago I didn't know you, or your wife, even existed. I know that makes no sense to you right now, but I swear I'll explain as soon as I'm able.

"I want to right the wrong that's kept you apart from your son and I want to do it right away," I tell him as calmly as I can. I take a brief look at my watch and then return to the call. "Can you give me your location?" I ask.

The end of the line isn't exactly silent; I can hear the quiet sobbing of two people who probably believed their son had deserted them. I wait, my timeline isn't important. Theirs is all that matters now. A few minutes pass punctuated by a few sniffles and then a woman's choked voice comes on the line.

"Mr McCarty?" she asks cautiously.

"Emmett," I tell her.

"Emmett," she sighs. "We're in Oxnard. We can be at his house in just over an hour or so if we leave right now."

"He's not in LA right now," I tell her. "It's too hard to explain why over the phone, and I know you'll want to get moving right away, so just know that he's not in the city but he's in a safe place. I'm sorry to have to do this this way, but I'd like to give you directions to get to where we are and I'd like to ask you to come right away. Unfortunately it's a six, or rather seven, hour drive from where you are right now."

"No, no, that's fine. We have an RV, we'll leave now. Carlisle!" she shouts and I hear paper shuffling. "I have a pen," she tells me efficiently.

I tell her we're in Prescott and then give them Garrett's address in town. I'd have to meet with them and explain before I could give them directions to my home, but I'd do that happily.

I remind her to save the number I'd called her on and to check in with me, no matter the time, on their journey. I left her sobbing, though I think that for the first time in five years it was happily.

**EPOV**

"Bella?" I ask as I roll over and feel the warm body beside me.

"Hmm mm," she murmurs as she too rolls over.

Her hair is everywhere so I use my fingertips to brush it aside so I can see her lovely face. "You awake?" I ask quietly in the dark.

"Hmm mm," she murmurs again but she doesn't open her eyes.

I roll to my other side and blink rapidly so I can read the bright red letters of the clock. Its eleven thirty, at night judging from the darkness both inside the room and the lack of light coming in through the curtains. "You okay?" I mumble into the dark.

"Yeah," she whispers. "Go back to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"Okay," I whisper against her hair as I shift and then tug her arm until she gets my message and scoots over, putting her cheek to my chest. "I'm sorry for today," I whisper against her head before closing my eyes again.

"Me too," she mumbles.

**BPOV**

"You awake?" I whisper into the still dark room. The only answer I get is a grunt.

I have no clue how long we'd slept for this time as the clock is on his side of the bed, but it didn't feel like long. I slip from the bed, pull on my t-shirt and tiptoe across the hall to use the bathroom. The house is dark, silent and cold. I'm quick about my business and hurry back to our room. I slide in beside him, nudging him until he's on his side so that I can curl up in front of him, playing little spoon.

He catches on quick, even in his half sleep, and his uppermost arm slides around my waist instantly. "You're cold," he whispers behind me, the words muffled by my hair.

"Sorry," I whisper back and try to move my icy feet so they aren't touching him.

"I'm warm," he mumbles, pulling on my hip and nudging the back of my thigh with his knee.

He winces as I put my feet on his shins but soon his breathing gets deeper as he falls back to sleep.

I lie there for a good while thinking about everything that had happened the day before. And a lot had happened. What the morning would bring I had no idea, but as our luck had been the last week or so I knew that it might be bad.

I close my eyes, willing myself back to sleep so that the coming day didn't happen, and hoped with everything I had inside me that Emmett knew what he was doing. That Rose was onboard with what we were about to do.

Sunlight streams through a crack in the curtains the next time I wake. Edward is warm behind me, very warm. In fact he's sweating.

I slide away from him, roll until I'm facing him and put my hand to his forehead. He's not got a fever he's just hot. I track the sun stream and see that it's mostly on his side of the bed.

Hoping he'll wake if he feels me get up, or hears me getting up, I slide to the edge of the bed and set my feet on the floor.

"Come back," I hear behind me and turn to see his grinning face, wide awake.

"You were foxing," I giggle as I slide back across the bed to kiss his head. "How are you feeling?"

"Headache but I'll live," he says as he rolls onto his back and stretches his arms above his head.

"I'll get you something," I tell him as I scramble back to my side and get out.

"You said we'd talk about yesterday," he reminds me, though I've hardly forgotten.

"We will, after you've taken an aspirin. I'll be right back."

I race through the house in just a t-shirt and my underwear and hope that the others are already in Emmett's bunker. There's nobody on the ground floor and I hadn't seen or heard anyone upstairs so I make quick work of raiding the little plastic medicine chest Emmett had in the laundry room. Aspirin and a bottle of water in hand I run back up the stairs to him.

I hear the toilet in our bathroom flush and then the water come on and then go off so I wait on the side of the bed for him to come back. I can't help but ogle him when he does. He's lean but nicely defined and the sight of him in just his boxer briefs gives me a head to toe shiver as he passes me by.

I watch him take the tablets and drink half the water and once he's set the bottle back on the bedside cabinet I crawl into his arms.

He'd brushed his teeth and he tastes of mint and male as I return his kiss. "It's true, isn't it?" he asks when he pulls away.

"Yes," I tell him straight up.

"And I switched, didn't I?"

"Yes, to James."

He sighs long and hard before speaking again. "Was I rude to you? Did I upset you? Hurt you?"

"No, Emmett had Alice come get me."

"It's so unbelievable," he mumbles. "But it makes sense too. I don't remember anything after Em told me the blood thing isn't a part of the personality problem."

"You just sat in the living room watching DVDs for a while."

"At least I can't invent things here," he chuckles but it's not a light hearted laugh, its rueful.

We're quiet for a time, neither of us knowing what to say now. It's not uncomfortable, just quiet. I want to tell him that the others had a good idea of who'd been threatening us but the words wouldn't come out. I was ashamed, felt guilty as hell, and didn't really know how to put voice to the problem being one I'd caused. And I did cause it. Jake had been possessive and controlling when we were married and his recent threats were very specific.

He wanted me to stop seeing Edward, he wanted Edward to stop seeing me, and he'd threatened to hurt us both if we didn't. Had I not gone looking for an audience with Edward Jake might never have felt the need to threaten anyone.

"What's wrong?" Edward asks, tightening his arms around my shoulders.

"So many things," I sigh.

"Emmett says we're safe here."

"And I believe him," I say firmly, "you should too."

"I do," he agrees. "So if we both trust that Emmett's keeping us safe what's bothering you?"

I'm about to open my mouth and say the words when there's a soft knock at our door. Edward calls for whoever it is to come on in and we both sit up against the headboard.

"Sorry to disturb you," Seth grins as he comes into the room, "but the boss just called. Our visitors will be here in twenty minutes and he wanted you to know."

I stare at him while Edward asks who the visitors are and cringe when he says that _I'll_ explain before he ducks back out of the room, closing the door behind himself again.

I had no problem being the one to tell Edward that his parents were arriving imminently, but I wasn't sure what sort of reaction the news was going to incite.

"Bella?" Edward asks cautiously.

I cup his cheek with my hand, lean over and kiss him lightly at the corner of his mouth before drawing back, leaving my hand where it is as I prepare to tell him.

**EPOV**

I'm pacing behind the sofa. I know I'm pacing. I know I'm driving the others insane. But I need to pace. Bella's doing her best to ignore it but Seth's scowling at me. Alice and Jasper have not surfaced, though I still don't know where they are when they aren't in the main part of the house. It's a mystery for another day I think to myself as I turn and head back in the opposite direction again.

I flick my eyes to the clock on the mantle for the hundredth time since Bella told me my parents were coming and I see that only one minute has passed since the last time I looked.

"Anyone want a coffee?" Seth asks as he gets to his feet.

I tell him no, Bella tells him yes, and I keep pacing.

"Come here," she beckons as I pass by where she's sitting on the arm of the chair. "Come here," she says again when I balk. I go to her and she tugs on my belt loops so that I'm standing between her parted jean clad thighs. "It'll be alright," she tells me, her eyes sparkling as I stare down into them. "They love you and from what Em says they never stopped trying to see you."

"I know," I tell her quietly. "But you also said they're pretty upset and you know how I react to stress. And now that I know too..." I trail off.

"Tell me the truth," she begs, staring at me pointedly.

I sigh, knowing she knew me well enough to see through my bullshit. "I'm scared," I admit softly, lowering my forehead to hers. "And I know that Rosalie said seeing them might be enough to make me remember them, but what if it's not? What if two strangers walk through that door and I don't remember?"

"Then we'll deal with it," she says matter of factly, pulling away only long enough to stare up into my eyes again. "They aren't asking for anything from you. They're aware of the situation by now and they don't want to hurt you, so they'll be gentle and calm and you'll do just fine."

"Do you know them well?" I ask, kicking myself for not thinking to ask earlier.

"Quite well," she admits. "They spent a fair bit of time at your house way back when and I was there a lot, so yeah, I know them quite well. They're wonderful people and had I known they..."

"Shhh, none of this is your fault," I tell her. "You didn't know I didn't remember them. And anyone who blames you will answer to me."

She grins up at me then. "This from the man who just said he was scared," she giggles.

I lean over her, making her clutch at my belt loops so she doesn't topple over the back of the chair. "Pushing my buttons?" I ask with a grin as I hover over her.

"Maybe," she grins.

"Get a room," Seth groans as he comes back into the living room with two mugs of coffee.

"We've got one and we were having a great time in it until you bothered us," I snipe at him over Bella's head.

"Whatever," he snipes back but he's grinning from ear to ear. "Are you cheating on me with this punk?" he asks Bella once I've let her up and she's perched safely back on the arm of the chair.

"You cheating on me with this ass clown?" I butt in, tossing a nod in Seth's direction.

She holds her hands up in surrender then turns to Seth. "You," she says, pointing at him, "are my boyfriend in name only and only at the restaurant. And you," she says, pulling me back between her thighs, "have yet to actually ask me out. He's four fifths of his way through his apprenticeship and he's very good at intimidating the kitchen staff at the restaurant. What are you offering me? A girl has to make an informed decision after all."

I lean down and kiss her, ignoring the gagging sounds Seth makes. I kiss her lips then her chin, cheek, the shell of her ear and then I whisper, "I remember nothing, have no clue who I really am and I have no idea what sort of future I can offer you. I'm half a man at the moment and yet you're here with me, sharing a bed with me, winding your body around mine night after night. And the instant all of this is cleared up I intend to make love you to for days, and days, and days. I want to know your body and for you to know mine. I want to know your mind and I want you to know mine. I'm offering you myself, as I am, as fucked up as I am. I'm offering myself to you."

I draw away and watch the gorgeous blush creep up her chest and throat. She gulps, blinks rapidly for a few seconds and then smiles up at me. "Sorry Seth, you're shit out of luck," she giggles, pulling my t-shirt so I have no choice but to press my lips to hers. I don't fight it. Only an idiot would fight it.

**BPOV**

Emmett comes into the house alone, surprising us all. "A word," he nods towards me.

I nod back and follow him outside, shutting the front door behind me and leaving behind a very, very agitated Edward. "They're as nervous as shit. I thought it might be easier if they saw you first," Em whispers to me as we go down the steps.

I say nothing because I'm as nervous as they are. I go with him to the car knowing that Esme and Carlisle are in it. My heart's thumping a million miles an hour and I'm shaking from head to foot as Edward's parents step down from the SUV.

"Isabella," Esme moans as she rushes to me.

I let her fold me into her arms and I let her cry. It had been five years of hell for me, but for her...there are no words I can think of to describe the hell she'd been in in that time. Carlisle too.

I look over the tiny womans caramel hair and get my first look at Edward's dad. He's greyed at the temples and looks older, worn, and scared. He stands a ways away, probably unsure what to do or say as I hug his wife.

"It'll be okay," I whisper to her and pull away so that I can step towards Carlisle.

He too pulls me close, saying my name quietly as he hugs me. I can feel the emotion welling up in me as I'm held but I dare not let it out. Not yet. They've been surprised by all of this, just like I had been, and it was only fair that I held it together while they got their heads around it all.

Carlisle kisses me on the top of my head, pats my back just once more and then pulls away, staring down at me. "It's so good to see you," he says with a wan smile.

"And you," I agree, smiling back as best I can.

"We want you to know we tried to contact you," he says earnestly, nodding his head firmly. "Your husband told us you didn't want to see us again and after trying a few more times we thought we were doing the right thing by letting it alone."

"Ex husband," I all but hiss. "And had I known you wanted to see me I would've seen you. I promise."

"We didn't know you weren't still in contact with our Edward," Esme adds, coming to my side and slipping her hand into mine with a gentle squeeze. "We thought when he wouldn't see us that he wouldn't see you either."

"He wouldn't. See me, I mean. I tried too. But..." I leave off. I fight the tears, sniffing as hard as I can to stave them off. "You know it wasn't Edward making a conscious decision not to see you, don't you?" I ask, looking to Emmett who is standing at the foot of the steps now.

"We know, dear," Esme says kindly. "Emmett's told us everything. Such a mess. So many lies. But we know that none of those lies are yours, or Edward's."

"Thank you," I sigh in relief. "He's inside and he's very, very anxious, but he really wants to see you."

She gives a short nod, takes her husband's hand and nods for me to lead them into the house. Emmett holds the door. I go in first and go right to Edward who looks overwhelmed already. "Breathe," I remind him.

I watch his face as his parents come into the living room, desperate for some sign that he recognises them.

"Hello, son," Carlisle says in a shaky voice.

"Edward," Esme gasps, putting a hand over her mouth, her eyes welling with tears.

"Ed?" Emmett asks quietly as he crosses the room to stand by us. "These are your parents. Aren't you going to say hello?"

"Hello," he mumbles woodenly as he stares at them.

Em moves, just slightly, but I put a hand to his forearm and have him stop where he is. We both watch Edward as he stares at his parents. His trembling has stopped and I think that's a good sign but then he reaches for my hand and very minutely shakes his head.

My heart stops and my gut clenches.

**EPOV**

I'd thought I was prepared not to know them. I'd thought I'd either know or not within seconds. I'd assumed my brain would either accept or deny right away.

It didn't.

I didn't.

I'd been wrong.

I watched them walk through the door hesitantly and as Emmett made the introductions I really looked at them. Stared actually. Probably made them very uncomfortable as I looked them up and down like meat hanging in a locker. But I had to. I had to know.

But I didn't.

I didn't know one way or the other.

So I continued to stare.

Bella made to move away so I reached for her, pulling her hand into mine. But I never take my eyes off the couple standing in front of me.

Bella's hand flinches in mine the longer I stare so I throw her a tiny shake of my head, pleading with her not to leave my side. I don't take my eyes off the couple though.

And then, like a switch has been thrown inside me I start to really see.

It is her eyes. They are mine reflected back to me.

Then it is his jaw. The hairline. His stance.

Her hopeful smile.

Her lack of height. His long fingers.

The way he stands with his hips aligned and braced.

The wedding ring on her finger.

The gold filigree cross on the chain at her throat.

"Mom," I whisper. I don't think anyone's heard me say it because nobody moves. Are they even breathing I wonder as I stare at the couple some more. "Dad," I say, a little more loudly, and then I hear it.

Bella's crying. Emmett's gasp. Seth's exhale.

"Edward?" my mother asks, her eyes brimming with tears and her face poised to crumple if I don't speak up now.

And then I'm there, in her arms, and she's holding me tightly and it feels like home.

**Emmett POV **

I nudge Seth at his shoulder and give him a second or two to sniff and wipe his nose. I don't call him on it, he'd already seen me do the same. "Come on," I whisper to him and nod my head in the direction of the kitchen.

We slink away, leaving the living room to the reunion five years in the making.

"That went well," he sighs as he sits his ass on one of the stools at the counter.

"Thank god," is all I can say.

I busy myself making coffee and slicing thick pieces off yet another slab of cake while Seth stares out the window and down the length of the yard.

"What's the plan now?" he asks eventually.

And for once I don't know. I tell him so too. "I guess we'll hang here for another few days, give them a chance to reunite properly."

"And Jake? What do you want to do about that?" he asks.

"Jasper and Alice are still digging. Sam's searching. Without more information, or a bead on where the guys actually at, there's nothing to be done right now."

"So we wait," he sighs.

"Yeah, we wait," I agree, a little disappointed with it myself. "We've still got two issues here, Seth. Don't lose sight of that. Ed remembering is only one of them. We've got to get the threat situation under control before we can think about making the next move for Ed."

He thinks on it a moment and then nods firmly. "Yeah. Good point, boss. Good that Ed recognised his folks though. That's real good."

"He remembers his parents, and that's a fucking good start I agree, but we don't know yet what else he's just remembered. Might be nothing. Might be everything. Until we know we stay put."

"Staying put," Seth mumbles as he takes the offered mug from my hand and returns to staring out the window.

I leave him there after a little while and head downstairs to check on the progress there.

"Any news?" I ask Jasper who is frantically typing on his laptop.

"Not a damn thing. There're seven bodies out there looking for him and so far nothing. Not a whisper. Not even a vague sighting. The address on his passport is a vacant lot where an apartment building _used_ to be, the one on his driver's license is actually an elementary school and of course there's a post office box for his mail that just so happens to be one of those disposable ones," he hisses, his fingers still flying over the keys of his computer.

"And Sam?" I ask, already knowing that disappointment was coming my way.

"He's found nothing either, which isn't sitting well with our resident perfectionist," he tells me. "And yes, before you ask Alice, he's checked the address on the bank records she managed to get hold of. No surprise that it's a fake too. A veterinary clinic actually."

"Fuck," I mutter darkly as I pull a chair up to the edge of their makeshift desk. "What about his family? Surely there's someone out there who knows something of him?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Jasper says with raised eyebrows, the first time he's looked up from his work since I'd arrived. "But, it seems, that our little friend isn't on such great terms with his family. There seems to be a point of contention involving Bella, though nobody will actually say what that is."

"Doesn't take a genius to work out what it is," Alice huffs, hand on hip.

"Well then, genius, do tell," I suggest with a wave of my hand.

"He's an asshole and he treated her badly. I don't know the actual reason why they divorced but from what Seth got out of the restaurant staff I'm betting it's because he's a possessive bastard and his family didn't like the way he was treating a woman. That can cause rifts in families that take generations to heal."

"Could be," I muse. "You know what I still don't get, though? Why the fuck is he being paid by Tanya every month?"

"Retainer?" Jasper suggests.

"He marked retainer deposits with a code," Alice reminds him.

"Maybe he freelances for her?" Seth shrugs as he comes through the door at the bottom of the stairs and takes up a seat on the sofa.

"Then she wouldn't have tried so hard to hide his employment records," Alice argues.

"Throw some ideas out there. Random shit. The first thing that comes to mind when you think of someone getting regular payments from someone else," I muse out loud.

"Information," Jasper suggests.

"Tanya needs her back watched because she's screwing someone else out of money," Seth offers.

"He's fucking her. Eww by the way," is Alice' first thought, which is disturbing.

"Then he'd be paying her," Jasper jokes.

"I wouldn't, even with someone else's money," Seth laughs.

"Repayments on a loan?" Jasper suggests next.

"She's got money to burn," Alice points out.

"Maybe it's a loan from years and years ago, before she had a pot to piss in," Jasper shrugs.

"Possible," I muse, "but the instant she'd made her first million she'd have paid him off. Alice has already proven that she can more than cover whatever is left of any debt she owed him."

"Alright, what if she's an investor in his business?" Alice throws into the ring.

"Possible, again," I shrug.

"Not really," Jasper adds. "Not now anyway. Maybe at the start. When he first went out on his own. But not now. Now he's on her books as an employee. If she was an investor, who helped him set the business up in the first place, she wouldn't need to pay into it so consistently now. Not now that he's making so much from it."

"It was regular payments right?" Seth asks seriously.

"Every month," I confirm.

"And they started not long after Charlie was killed?" he asks.

"Yeah. So?" I reply, not seeing where he's going.

"So that has to be the tie in," he says as he wipes his hands on his pants and comes towards where the three of us are sitting. His jaw is set in a hard line and I can see the cogs in his head turning as he approaches. "How far back before Charlie's death did you check, Alice?"

"A year," she tells him, "there weren't any payments from Tanya at all before then."

"Didn't you say she once told you she cleaned the mess up but that's all you'd find about her involvement in it?" Seth asks me.

"Holy shit!" I shout. "It's hush money. He cleaned it up. She _did_ tell me that she cleaned up the day Charlie died. But this is Tanya Denali we're talking about. There's no way she got her own hands dirty. She called in someone who'd do it for her. It's Jake Black she called. She's paying him for his silence about what he cleaned up that day. Motherfucker," I hiss.

"Good theory, how do we prove it?" Jasper asks.

"No fucking clue," I sigh.

"Tanya's the weaker link," Jasper says as he too sets his features into a serious mask. "We already can't find Jake, so it's going to have to be Tanya we approach."

"She won't crack until I have proof," I mutter darkly. "And I've got nothing to threaten her with now that Ed's dropped her. She's going to be our plan B, I want to know where Jake is and if we can't find him _then_ we'll step on Tanya's toes and see if she squeals."

"I think you need to talk to Bella some more," Alice says quietly, her face clouded by an emotion I can't place.

"Why?" I ask cautiously.

"Because you don't know when she met Jake. You know when she married and divorced him, but you don't know yet whether or not Jake was around when she was Ed's friend when Charlie was still alive," she says carefully.

"I do actually," I correct her. "She told me herself she met him in her first year at college and we know that she definitely knew Ed then, which means the timeframe fits for Jake to have known Charlie too."

"You can't assume that," Alice chimes in.

"Why not?" Seth asks.

"Because she may not have ever introduced Jake to her father, or even to Edward. The timeframe might fit but it's not proof that all three of them knew about each other. Edward and Charlie did, of course. But there's no proof about Jake knowing either of them, and vice versa."

"Does it matter?" Jasper asks, looking as confused as I felt.

"Yeah, it matters. He's possessive, controlling and treated her badly enough that she divorced him," Alice counts off on her fingers. "He's threatening her, and your mark, and that lends itself to unstable and possibly psychotic. If he cleaned up what happened to Charlie and has managed to keep his mouth shut all these years to the guys _daughter_ about it then who knows what he's actually capable of. Bella's the only one who can give you a profile."

I turn my eyes to the monitor by the door and see that Bella is deeply engrossed in conversation with Edward's parents. "Tomorrow," I tell the group. "Tomorrow I'll sit down with her and we'll build a profile of Jacob Black. Tonight we let her, and them, be happy. I'll burst the bubble tomorrow morning, but not before."

"Whatever you say, boss," Seth agrees, though I can tell that it's reluctantly.

He's just as eager as I am to sort the mess out but I hope he can see, from looking at the monitor, that the four people sitting in my living room right then deserved at the very least a few short hours to heal, reacquaint and to be happy before they are all once again shoved into the nightmare that Ed's life had become.

"Back to work," I tell them. "I'm going to call Rosie and let her know that he's remembered his parents."

**BPOV**

I lay in our bed, in the middle of the night, staring up at the ceiling and thinking over all that had been said with the Masens over the course of the day.

So much hurt. So much pain.

But also a lot of healing and goodness too I tried to remind myself.

It was hard to fully appreciate their good fortune when I myself felt so low, but I had tried my best. For Edward's sake. And for the Masens who had been so cruelly parted from their only child all these long years.

He remembered them, and that was both astounding and wonderful. But he didn't remember me. He didn't remember my dad.

I tried to be happy for him that he recalled his own father, and at heart I really was, but I knew that my bravado only hid my pain, masked it, and didn't dissipate it at all.

I wanted him to remember Charlie. I wanted him to be able to recall all the wonderful hours and days they'd spent together too, just like the ones he'd relived with his own father today. I wanted him to remember the pride, love and encouragement my father had given him in the years they'd been so close. But my wish was futile. Edward simply didn't remember.

It was as though his brain simply rebooted itself the day my father died. Like a computer his hard drive just didn't recall all the information it used to contain.

No, that wasn't strictly true. His brain still contained the information, it was just access to it that had been corrupted. It was all still there. I had proof of that now. If he could remember his parents there was a good chance he'd one day remember my dad.

And me.

**EPOV**

She wasn't sleeping.

She was staring up at the ceiling, like I was staring at the wall to my side, and doing her best to remain still and quiet so I could sleep. But I wasn't sleeping. Just like her.

I'd spent all day, and most of the evening, blissfully reconnecting with my parents and totally aware of the fact that with every laugh, every smile, I was hurting her, deeply.

I didn't remember her.

I didn't remember her father.

I didn't remember any of my previous life that didn't contain my parents.

Each instance they recalled from their own memories I was able to recall for myself. As long as one or both of my parents were present the day they were recalling I recalled it too. Days that they knew about, that they weren't physically present in, were a total blank for me still.

I hated it and loved it at the same time.

I loved recognising my mother. Adored knowing my father on sight.

I hated not remembering the man who had protected me for years.

I loathed not remembering his daughter whom I am now sure I was in love with. Even back then. Despite our age difference. Despite my burgeoning fame. Despite my supposed protests that the movie business was no place for her. Despite every obstacle, either real or imagined at the time, I'd been in love with Isabella Swan.

I was now too.

Completely.

And it killed me inside.

A piece of my past had been returned to me today but there was a fundamental chunk still missing. I wanted it back. Desperately.

But there is something there, in a corner of my mind, that has me on edge. Other than the obvious, of course. Something that doesn't want me to take the leap and express my feelings to her. Something that isn't sure she's who and what she presents herself to be.

Oh, I don't think she's lying. I think she tells me the truth when she talks about our friendship, about the way her father loved me, those aren't lies. But there is something, just some nagging thought that makes me think that there is something I'm missing. Some scrap of information about Bella that I should be considering before I open my mouth and confess what I feel for her now, and what I think I felt for her before.

But before any of that can be sorted out I had the awful, terrible guilt of constantly hurting her to deal with.

I know she's awake. I know she'll hear me if I speak.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into the darkness.

"I know," she whispers back.

I reach for her and she gives me her hand. I squeeze it gently and she squeezes gently back.

Neither of us speaks again. The silence is uneasy now that we are both aware that the other is awake.

So I leave her to her thoughts. She leaves me to mine. And as close as we are in the bed I feel the gulf between us that is widening every day. Despite the progress I'd made today I know that the missing space between us could very well be just too big to recover from. I know that for every piece of myself that I reclaim those pieces mean nothing if I don't soon remember her, her father, and what they both meant to me back then.

**BPOV**

It's three in the morning when his distress wakes me. It's quiet. A low, soft snuffling sound that at first I mistake for snoring.

Its only a few seconds before I realise he isn't snoring. He's crying. He's asleep and he's crying.

I listen for a little longer, hoping that whatever has upset him abates and lets him sleep peacefully again, but it becomes clear fast that that isn't going to happen.

He's mumbling but I can't make out the words.

I roll carefully onto my side so I don't startle him but he's not fully awake and my movements do nothing to arrest whatever demon is plaguing his mind.

He's facing me, his face twisted into an anguished grimace. His jaw clenching and unclenching rhythmically in between his mumbles.

"Edward," I whisper as I place my palm to his cheek.

I get no coherent response, just a change in his breathing as whatever he's dreaming about starts to bother him more.

"Edward," I whisper again as his hands come to my forearms and he begins to push me away. I chant his name just one more time and then I find myself on my back, with him looming above me.

He's awake now and his eyes are wide. His face stricken. Tears fall steadily from the point of his nose and drip, drip, drip onto my throat. He sobs just once as he squeezes his eyes shut tight and then they're open again and he's staring down at me in utter despair.

"Edward," I whisper, my voice nothing more than a sob of my own now.

"Bella," he whispers back as he stares.

"It's okay," I tell him as convincingly as I can.

"Bella," he says again as he shakes his head as though to clear his thoughts.

"I'm here," I reassure.

He's got my wrists pinned beside my head, his weight on the length of my body, and he's panting hard as he comes fully around. "Why do I remember them and not you?" he asks pleadingly.

I have no answer. He waits but I can't give him an answer. He grunts just once, releases my wrists and then sits back on his haunches at my side.

"I don't remember you and its killing me," he moans as he begins to shake his head from side to side, his lips set in a grim line as he rubs his palms over his face. "It has to be hurting you too and I can't do anything about it."

"It does hurt," I tell him truthfully as I get to my knees too.

"I'm hurting you every day. Every hour of every day I'm hurting you," he says between clenched teeth.

"It's unintentional," I remind him as I reach for his hand. "You don't mean to. I know that. And you _will_ remember."

"What if I don't?" he asks straight up. "What if I never remember who you were to me back then?"

I think on it for just a second and realise that what Emmett had pointed out to me back at Edward's house in the city was true. It didn't matter to me.

"It doesn't matter," I say out loud. The scepticism on his face is plain for me to see. "I mean it," I assure him. "If you never remember who I was to you so long ago it doesn't have any bearing on today, right now, here. We never get yesterdays back, Edward. They're gone. For all of us. Not just you."

He slams his eyes shut again and takes a long, deep breath in before answering. "I want my yesterdays back, Bella. I know that nobody can relive them but I don't remember living them the first time around and I want them back."

"I know," I tell him gently, my fingers stroking his cheek now. "I know you want them back and you know that everyone around you will help you to get them back."

"I want to remember who your dad was to me back then," he says solemnly.

"I know that too," I admit firmly. "But if you never do I'll teach you about my dad. I'll tell you everything I know about him and I'll tell you everything you did with him. I promise."

"What if I never find out who I was back then?" he asks, his voice a hoarse rasp and filled with pain and sadness.

"Then you'll become a version of yourself that you'll be content with," I tell him simply.

He's quiet again then. His eyes are closed as he sits beside me but they aren't squeezed shut, he looks as though he's contemplating rather than suffering.

"I might be living a lie," he says eventually and I have to ask him what he means by that. He thinks on it a little and then lies back down on his pillow, an arm thrown over his eyes. "How can I be sure that anything I'm doing is truly what's best for me? How do I know that the thoughts in my head are even mine?"

I stare at him for just a second and then slump back down against the pillows myself. "I have all my memories intact," I begin slowly. "I remember almost every detail of my life and even I don't know if the things I did today are in my best interest."

"Okay, I concede that," he whispers but doesn't lower his arm. "But the thoughts I have, you have to agree that they might not be mine. Not if I slip from one persona to another."

"The thoughts in your head _are_ yours. The other personas are still you. They might be different personalities but they are still you," I tell him, hoping it's the right thing to say and wishing I'd asked to speak to Rosalie about it before now.

"My parents must be appalled," he mumbles. "They must have been so pleased to hear from Emmett and then when they get here they have to learn that I'm broken. Not even really anything like the son I used to be to them."

"A parent loves their child unconditionally," I tell him sternly as I sit back up. I pull his arm down from his face and set my chin defiantly. "They're good people and they would never, ever be anything other than proud to call you their son."

"They don't know me," he defends, almost angrily.

"You aren't so different," I counter, getting a little angry myself now.

"Of course I am!" he says gruffly, sitting up on his elbows now. "I flail about and am rude and obnoxious in _two other personas_, Bella," he hisses.

"And we all know and understand that you can't help that," I retort heatedly. "And if you put that aside you'd realise that you have a chance here. You have a chance to let them get to know who you are now. They'll take it, believe me," I hiss.

He's got no idea how hard it is for me to defend their chance, knowing what I'd give up for the chance to have my dad with me for even one more day. He's got his parents back and he's doubting the wisdom of spending time with them? It's shameful and it makes me angry.

"Why would they?" he all but shouts as he gets up from the bed and paces along its side.

"Because they are your parents," I say lowly, trying to keep my anger out of the discussion as best I can.

"They might think..." he stumbles before beginning again. "They probably think I...I mean, how can they just ignore the past five years and accept me so easily?"

"Because they love you," I say through gritted teeth.

"Five years ago I abandoned them! I abandoned you!" he shouts and I cringe.

I listen for a second, in case he's woken the whole house, but am pleased when everything outside our room stays silent. "No, you didn't," I say softly as I too get to my feet, on the other side of the bed so that we are glaring at each other across its width. "Five years ago I thought you had. I believed you had. I never heard from you ever again. Not once. I tried so hard to be able to see you, to talk to you, but Tanya never let me. And for all of those five years I held onto the anger of that. For five years I cursed you, wondering why you didn't come to the funeral. Why you wouldn't accept my calls anymore. Why you withdrew from me. Why you stopped being my friend.

"But not once since I came back into your life have I ever felt the same stab of anger I felt for you then. Not once. As soon as I was told the circumstances that _took_ you from me – and let's tell it like it is here, you were _taken_ from me, Edward - I knew and understood that had you had a choice you never would have discarded me. You didn't go willingly. You didn't walk away of your own free will. You didn't abandon me. You were taken from me."

"Tanya," he hissed bitterly.

"Yes, it seems likely that Tanya has something to do with this, but that isn't my point," I tell him as I move slowly around the foot end of the bed towards him. "My point is that my situation is the same as the one your parents have been living with these past five years. You didn't leave them, or abandon them. You were taken from them. They might not have known or understood that all this time, but they do now. Do you see that?"

"I guess," he shrugs.

"That's why they can let go of the past five years and embrace what they've been given back. Because you didn't make a conscious choice to abandon them. And now that they understand that the past can fall away," I tell him honestly because it's how I felt now too.

I move closer and reach for his hand. He gives it to me willingly and I pull him until he's closer to me and we are standing toe to toe on his side of the bed. "They love you, Edward. They always have and they always will. If they'd never been allowed contact with you ever again they'd still go on loving you. Love like that never goes away."

"How can they not be angry?" he asks, a slight hitch to his voice.

I think on that a second and try to keep my opinions about my situation to myself as I answer on his parents behalf. "They probably are. And rightly so. But not with you. They aren't angry with you. They're probably angry at the situation, a situation that was as much out of their control as it was for you," I whisper as I see the despair creep back into his features.

"I hope I wasn't the sort of person who could've ever abandoned you willingly," he whispers.

I draw in a long, slow breath before I reply, knowing what I said now would have long lasting consequences. "At first I thought you might have been. I admit that when you didn't show up at the funeral that's exactly what I thought. And that thought was helped along by someone who had a vested interest in me thinking that way, but deep down I always hoped there was a good reason for your absence."

He lets my hand go and runs the backs of his fingers down my cheek slowly. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you that day. How can you ever forgive me?"

"I already have," I tell him truthfully. "Whatever happened to you, or for you, in the days between daddies death and his funeral are to blame, not you personally."

"I want to remember you," he whispers gently as he cups my cheek in his hand.

"I know you do," I tell him with as much of a smile as I can muster, "I hope you do one day."

Something flickers across his face and I wonder what he's thinking. His eyes flash, possibly in pain but it's hard to know, and then he steps closer and I shiver all over. He's so quiet, so unsure of himself right now and I begin to doubt the wisdom of what I think he's about to do. If he kisses me I'll have to deny him. He's too upset, too out of control mentally, to be thinking clearly enough about it.

He strokes my cheek with his thumb and stares into my eyes. My heart is really racing now and as he leans forward I begin to form the let down in my mind.

But he doesn't kiss me. He moves his lips across my cheek to my ear. "Why are you here, Isabella?" he asks gruffly.

I startle. It's not what I'd been expecting. He never used my full name. He'd only ever called me Bella. As he steps away, dropping his hand abruptly from my face, I stare up into his eyes. Has he switched and I hadn't noticed any of the other telltale signs?

His eyes are clear, though they're distant. He's not squinting as though he's got a headache and his posture is strong, assured.

If he's still himself I don't understand the question and tell him so.

**EPOV**

The 'something' that had eluded me was now very clear in the forefront of my mind.

Five years. Five whole years. And now she's here. And someone was threatening me. She'd already admitted she'd spent five years angry at me. Anger was a very, very powerful emotion and it made seemingly gentle people do hateful things.

Suddenly the questions I needed answered were very clear in my head.

I move around the end of the bed, away from where she's standing, and make my way clear across the room to the table and chairs. I pull the chair out and sit in it, crossing an ankle over my knee as I run over in my head what I want to ask first.

I'm not nervous about the answers. Whatever they are I'll at least know the truth and then I could take control of this one part of my life.

"Sit," I tell her sternly, nodding towards the bed so she won't think of coming to sit by me at the little table.

"Alright," she says hesitantly as she perches on the side of the bed facing me.

"Why are you here?" I ask her again.

"I don't understand the question," she says, again.

I cock my head to one side and regard her carefully. She's definitely confused, she's a terrible actress from what I'd seen of her so far, so her confusion is real. No matter. I'll rephrase.

"Five years, Isabella," I begin, slowly. "It's true it's been five years since I last had anything to do with you and it's true that I don't remember you at all, but you remembered me. Right?" I ask carefully.

"Of course I did," she says simply, a crease beginning to form in her brows.

"So I'm wondering why you waited five years to come talk to me," I say as a statement.

Her eyebrows raise a little higher and her lips form something of a grimace before she answers. "I didn't _wait_ five years to come talk to you," she hisses suddenly. "Tanya wouldn't let me near you."

"But you managed it last week," I accuse.

"Oh yeah, I managed it alright, and I've still got the bruises to prove it," she mutters darkly. "What's your point?" she asks.

I shove aside the bruises remark for another time. "My point is I should've wondered before now why you took five years to come seek me out. And I have to wonder if it's a coincidence that the very week you choose to come find me is also the week I start receiving very personal threats."

"You bastard," she whispers as she gets to her feet.

"Emmett's an asshole and I'm a bastard," I shrug, "I'm sure I've been called worse, though I don't remember. So tell me, why now? Why are you here now?"

She looks me over from head to toe and then shrinks back down until she's once again sitting on the edge of the bed. "I don't know now," she whispers. "I thought...I just, I wanted to know..." she stammers. "I was at work a few weeks ago and a man daddy had worked with at the precinct nearby mentioned how sad it was that it had been five years since his death and I got thinking.

"So much of my life now is tied up with my past. Where I live, where I work, who I'd married. Hell, who I'd divorced too I guess. I just wanted to know what actually happened that day. I thought I needed to know so I could finally let it go and remember him the way I'm supposed to instead of always being angry because I never knew what happened.

"And then I talked to Emmett and Jasper and they told me you didn't remember what happened and I forgot all about why I needed to know. I've been so tied up trying to help you understand it, to remember it for yourself, that I totally lost sight of what I came looking for myself."

"You want closure," I say firmly.

"I do," she agrees as she lifts her brimming eyes to mine. "I need to know so that I can put it behind me and move on. I have to know so that it won't cloud whatever future I have."

"Do you have anything to do with the threats against me?" I ask carefully. I need to know, and I'm sorry to have to ask the question now, but I hope I already know her answer. I just need to hear her actually say it.

"No," she says quietly. "I'd never threaten you. Never. No matter how angry I got at you before...no. Never. I swear it. I never would."

"You've never been angry enough at my abandonment that you thought you should try and hurt me?" I ask.

"Never," she says, shaking her head violently from side to side. "I'd never do that. I loved you. I never wanted to see you hurt, ever. It _is_ a coincidence, I swear."

She's crying steadily now, and she's right, I am a bastard for asking her these things. But there had been that something in my head that made me need to hear her give me the answers. "I had to ask. I'm sorry I did, but I had to know," I tell her honestly.

"What now?" she asks, her red rimmed eyes pleading with me.

I smile just a little as I take my ankle down off my knee and lean forward. "Now I tell you that I think I might have been in love with you five years ago and I think I still am. Despite not knowing who I am, who you are or what the hell happened to me I think I'm in love with you, Bella."

**BPOV**

I shiver at his words.

I stare at him for a long, long time. He'd asked me something horrible and then followed it up with the sweetest, loveliest words I'd ever heard. My head was swimming and I was reeling from the emotional whiplash.

I understand his need to ask me, I even understand his mistrust and I think it's a good thing. Emmett had already told me that it had been years since he questioned anything for himself, or had shown any emotion at all, so even though his questioning had hurt me a little I was elated that he'd questioned _someone_.

And then he'd said what he'd said and I was once again a puddle of goo for him.

They are the words I'd always hoped to hear from him years ago and my heart skips a beat as he says them now. "I have always, always been in love with you, Edward," I whisper back in the dark.

"You married," he says but it's not an accusation, just a simple statement of fact.

"I did," I nod as I stand at the side of the bed. I go to him and he embraces me around my middle, pulling me closer until his forehead is against my belly so I'm standing between his parted knees. My fingers go immediately to his hair and I begin to stroke gently. "At the beginning I was dating Jake to prove to you that I was old enough, and mature enough, to have an adult relationship. Then daddy died and I never saw you again. It was a mistake, Jake and me, on so many levels.

"But I was alone, totally alone, for the first time in my life. He said he'd never leave me. He said he'd take care of me. He'd asked me to marry him before and I'd always said no. But he kept asking, and I couldn't see you or talk to you, and he kept asking..." I trail off.

"One time he asked and I turned him down and he got mad. It all came out then. He shouted at me to tell him, to finally tell him why I couldn't marry him. I told him straight up that I was in love with you, that I always had been. But he..." I leave off, unable to finish without losing my shit totally.

"He pointed out that I'd abandoned you," he finished for me.

I nod wearily even though he can't see me do it. I'm suddenly so fed up with circumstance. "He did. And after a while I started to believe him. I had no other choice I suppose, and essentially, at that time, he was right. You were gone. I was alone. He was there. He asked again a few months later and I could see no reason not to agree. So I did."

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles against me.

"So am I," I say as carefully as I can.

I take a deep breath, lick my dry lips and open my mouth to tell him just what the others suspected Jake was capable of...and then a shrill alarms sounds and the chance is lost.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading.**

**Please review. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Emmett POV**

"Fucking hell!" I bellow as every alarm in the house goes off at once. "Seth! Seth!" I shout, but I needn't have, he's already on his feet. "Secure your mark," I tell him as he pulls on sweats.

We run down the hall, meeting a terrified Carlisle and Esme on the landing outside what had been Jasper and Alice' room just the day before. I bark at them to get dressed and to get downstairs as Seth and I go into Ed's bedroom.

"Advise!" Jasper bellows up the staircase.

"Secure the Masens then get Alice ready to lock this place down!" I shout back to him. "Get dressed," I tell Ed who is already on his feet by the side of the bed.

"Get dressed," Seth tells Bella at the same time.

"What's going on?" they ask in unison but there's no time for explanations.

"Leave it," I hiss as Ed reaches for his watch on the bedside cabinet. I give him only enough time to pull on sweats and then I take his arm and march behind Seth who has Bella's arm in his hand.

We go down the stairs steadily but quickly and when we get to the laundry room I wait for Jasper to head down to the bunker after his charges before I shove Ed into the doorway. Seth doesn't need to shove Bella, she steps willingly into the tiny alcove and then I hear her guiding Ed down the stairs.

The instant we're into the bunker I open the armoured cabinet, hit the manual override code to silence the alarms and start pulling out weapons. "Get as many screens up at once as you can Alice, I need to see how many I'm dealing with," I shout as I throw a rifle at Jasper and two handguns to Seth.

"There's nothing out there," she shouts back over the noise of the guys loading clips into their weapons. "Every alarm's gone off simultaneously but there isn't anyone or anything out there that I can see."

"Should I call Garrett, boss?" Seth asks as he slides one gun into his waistband and cocks the other.

"The alarms go off at his house too, he'll be here in ten tops," I tell Seth as I shoulder a rifle for myself after loading it. "Jasper take the west side of the house, Seth you take the east. I'll go to the front of the property and double back. You two go from front to back and we'll meet by the side of the house," I tell them as I toss them a headset each.

"On it," Jasper shouts as he runs for the stairs.

"Got it," Seth shouts as he follows.

"Nobody in, nobody out," I instruct Alice. "The instant I shut that door behind me you hit the master switch there," I tell her, pointing to the red button in the back of the armoured cabinet. "Keep this on and I want you to report to me any movement that's bigger than a house cat immediately," I tell her as she too dons a headset. "Garrett will come on foot through the front gate there," I tell her, showing her which screen he'll appear on. "I'll meet him there and we'll sweep the front of the property. He's got no headset so the instant you see him you tell us so we don't shoot him."

"Got it, boss," she says as she starts flicking from screen to screen on the monitors.

I cross the room and go to the four huddled, shaking bodies on the sofa. "This room is totally safe. Nobody can get in here without Alice flicking that switch back on. Stay here. Do as she tells you," I tell them collectively. "Bella, there's a thirty-eight in the cabinet. It's the same as the one you used with Garrett. The rounds are marked to match. It's a last resort," I tell her.

"Got it," she says though her voice is shaky.

I run for the stairs and don't look back. The master switch has made the house go dark. Not a light, LED on an electronic device or a firefly gives off any illumination as I run through it to the front door.

"All clear west," Jasper tells me through our connection.

I run up the driveway, scanning left and right as I go, but see nothing. "Front entrance clear," I tell the others as I turn around and go along the fence line to the east.

"East clear," Seth reports.

"Alice?" I ask.

"Not a damn thing, boss," she tells me.

"Do another pass," I tell the guys.

I turn and go in the opposite direction but see and find nothing.

"Garrett coming through the front gate now," Alice reports.

"Received," the three of us say as one to acknowledge his presence.

I rush back to the front gate to see Garrett running full steam up the drive. "The vehicles," I shout to him as I run to catch him up.

"Anything?" he asks over his shoulder as we run.

"Not a damn thing," I tell him.

I slip between the vehicles in the drive, weapon drawn as I get down on my knees by each one to check underneath. I meet Garrett at the back of the last one and see he's got his weapon drawn too.

"All clear east," Seth reports.

"Clear west," is Jasper's.

"All clear to each side," I say for Garrett's benefit. "Meet at the foot of the back deck," I tell the others as my brother and I move to cross the front porch. We go in through the front door, locking it behind us again, and then go right through the house to the back glass doors by the dining room. "Spread out," I tell the guys and we walk as one down the length of the yard towards the barn.

"You smell that?" Garrett asks as he splits off to my side.

"Fire!" Alice shouts just as the rest of us smell the smoke.

"Where Alice?" I ask, terrified it was in the house behind us with our marks in the bunker and practically sitting ducks.

"Barn," she shouts back through the headset.

"Barn!" I shout for Garrett's benefit.

"Extinguishers kitchen, by the front door and there's one in each vehicle," I shout as the four of us run back to the house.

**BPOV**

"There," I tell Alice, pointing to one of the monitors she's assigned me to watch.

"Body running," she shouts into her headset. "Back gate to the west. Fleeing on foot."

"Seth!" Emmett shouts loud enough for me to hear through Alice' headset.

"Here," she tells me, throwing another headset at me.

I slip it on though I have no idea how it works or what I'm doing. I get it situated just in time to hear Seth shout that he'd reached the back gate but that there was no sign of the intruder.

"Head back. I need you on an extinguisher," Em tells him.

I turn on the swivel seat to look at the monitor that showed the barn. "How do I see the other side of it?" I ask Alice.

"Second button from the left," she tells me quickly. There's a chiming sound in the room and then. "There's a voice message being left on Bella's cell phone," she says into her headset.

"Make sure it's recorded," Em shouts as I see him run around the far side of the barn with a fire extinguisher in his hand poised and ready to go.

"How do I talk to him?" I ask Alice.

"Button on the outside of it," she says, tapping her own headset.

I press the button, "Go further, Em," I tell him. "Keep going, keep going, there. See that?" I ask.

"Broken window," he says as he sets off his extinguisher through it.

I watch as Garrett and Jasper set their extinguishers off after busting a window on the other side of the barn and push the button so that I can see Seth aiming his at the wide double doors. Before long the smoke that had been pouring out of the windows slows down.

I watch as Seth pushes on the doors and then another pillar of smoke flows out of them and away into the night sky.

"Watch your footing," Em warns him as the four guys step into the building gingerly. "How many windows down was the one that was already broken Bella?" he asks me.

I switch feeds on the monitor and count them. "Third one," I tell him.

I keep pushing the button to switch feeds so that I'm watching the same one as Alice, the one from the inside of the smoking barn.

"Motherfucker," I hear Em hiss but the smoke's too thick for me to see what he's pissed about. Other than someone setting his barn on fire of course. "Get me a written copy of that voice message Alice, we're coming back in," he says after a few seconds.

Alice starts tapping away on her keyboard, doing as Emmett has instructed, so I take off my headset and make my way back to the sofa.

I take one look at Edward and know that he's switched. I sigh because honestly, it was getting a little too much for me to handle and I could feel myself waning from the adrenalin rushes of the past few days.

"James?" I ask as I approach the sofa.

"Is it too much to ask that I be consulted on operations?" he hisses at me as he gets to his feet.

"One moment," I tell him before I take half a second to look at his shell-shocked parents who are huddled together, in each other's arms, at the other end of the sofa. "Are you okay?" I ask carefully, ignoring Edward for a moment. Carlisle gives me a vague nod over his wife's head and I decide to take him at his word, despite him not having spoken.

"Excuse me," Edward says condescendingly _at_ me. "I do believe that it's me who pays your salary and as such I demand that you show me some respect! You address me as sir or Mr Goodall and you see to my needs before you ask after the wellbeing of people who as yet don't even work for me!"

I stare at him for just a second, wondering who the hell he thought his parents were while he thought he was James, before marching towards him, getting right up in his face. "Sit your ass back down on that sofa and keep your god dammed mouth shut, _James_," I hiss.

"How dare you!" he barks, his eyes flashing back and forth between me and his parents. "You're fired!" he says smugly, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk.

My anger and fear flood my system as I stare at him. It wells in my gut, making my body hot and my brain and heart race. All the events of the past weeks come crashing down on me and I feel as though I've been hit with a truck.

The constant fear. The never ending anguish. The worry. The not knowing.

It bubbles up inside me and I snap.

I take a step towards him and fist the front of his t-shirt in my fingers. "I told you to sit the fuck down," I snarl as I shove him back onto the sofa.

His eyes widen as he squares his shoulders. "How dare you," he hisses right back. "How dare you speak to me that way!" he roars.

"Why?" I seethe through gritted teeth. "Because you think you know everything better than everyone else? Because you think you're some amazing, international spy?"

He's really pissed now. His eyes are flashing back and forth and his teeth are grinding away in his jaw. "You are a house maid," he sneers, "hired help. Someone who gets paid to wait on someone like me. I've been trained in missions such as this and you've been trained to pick up after me. Step aside and let me do my job. You're fired. Get out," he raves, attempting to shove me aside as he spits the last few words of his rant.

I know he has no idea what he's saying but I can't help my reaction to his words. I shove him right back, making him stumble as he tries to get by me and get to where Alice is sitting in front of the monitors.

"Fuck you, _James_," I spit venomously at him as he whirls back around to face me again.

I hear Esme's gasp but I don't have any time to spare to see to her because in the next heartbeat Edward, or James, crunches his body downwards. He looks ridiculous. Like a spider that'd had four of its legs removed and the ones it'd been allowed to keep had all been broken.

"You'll regret that," he grins maniacally. He flattens his hands and stretches his arms out in front of himself before drawing them back to the sides of his body. He cranes his neck, his eyes bulging as he does. He looks like a bigger idiot. "I know Feng-Shoo," he says matter of factly.

I put both my hands on my hips and snigger, enraging him further. "Yeah? So what? I know his brother, Chow Mein." I follow his lead and slip into my own crouch, a proper one, just in case he decides to do something stupid like jump me.

I didn't want to hurt him. I knew that running was always a better option, from proper self defence classes, but in such a confined space as the bunker this could get out of hand fast. So I planned how I was going to get him to the ground and subdued while he was busy cursing me.

"You impertinent urchin," he sneers as he raises his hands again and shuffles on the balls of his feet as though he's about to pounce.

"You don't want to do this, James, trust me," I tell him firmly, still intent on ending this the easy way like I'd been taught. By talking. But he's not having it.

He shifts as though he's going to tackle me but his movements are well advertised and I skip to one side and he goes flailing by me, hitting his hip on the edge of Jasper's empty desk, before turning around and spearing me with a look filled with so much loathing it makes my stomach clench.

His mother makes another gasp followed by a sob and I hear Carlisle get to his feet, probably to intervene. I put my hand out and shout for him to stay out the way.

Alice, now trying to keep her eyes on both the action in the bunker and on the monitors in front of her in case the intruder comes back for another try, is huffing her unhappiness at both situations audibly.

Edward lunges again. His movements are sloppy and again he advertises his intent as he comes towards me. I step aside again, but this time I reach out and grab his leading wrist with my right hand. At the same time I take a hold of his elbow with my left hand and use his own momentum to propel him in a downward spiral to the floor.

We hit that floor hard. Making his mother gasp and Alice curse. But I have no time to consider them before he starts to thrash.

I pull his arm higher up his back and keep my hand firmly planted for leverage so that he's now face down on the floor and unable to push himself up. He begins to struggle so I do what I'd been taught and settle my right knee on the back of his neck.

"Stay down," I hiss when he begins to thrash again. "Stay down," I warn him again when he bucks beneath me.

"Get off me, woman!" he growls as he starts twisting his head from side to side. He starts to kick out with his legs but I've got him, he's not going anywhere and I think he knows it too because he's pissed. So pissed.

"No can do," I tell him as I pant to get my breathing under control again. "We're just going to stay right here until you calm down."

"What the fuck is going on here?" Emmett roars as he bursts into the bunker.

I turn so that I can see Emmett over my shoulder and explain, very briefly, that Edward had shifted and that we'd gotten into an argument that had turned aggressive.

Emmett's low 'Jesus Christ' was added to with Jasper's 'bloody hell' and Seth's 'oh just what we fucking need'. Garrett was silent but didn't look amused.

I felt bad then. I'd given them all something else to worry about when they already had enough to deal with.

I turn back around to the front and lean down a little so that I can speak into Edward's ear. I shift my knee, just a little, taking the pressure off his neck a tiny bit. "I'm going to let your arm go now, lie still," I tell him gently.

"Get the fuck off me," he spits out from between clenched teeth.

"Ed!" Emmett booms as he comes to stand beside us. "Don't speak to her that way!"

It's totally the wrong thing to say, and the wrong time to say it, because Edward starts thrashing again. I've already removed my knee from his neck now and as soon as I've shifted my weight and have slid my left leg over the small of his back so I'm straddling him he's free to move his body and he does, violently. He jack knifes up and I'm thrown off him and then I'm lying at Carlisle and Esme's feet by the sofa, winded and pretty pissed off.

I pull my knees up once I'm sitting and try to stay calm while I drag in shallow pulls of oxygen until my lungs are no longer panicking from the loss.

**Emmett POV**

I understood my mistake the instant I made it. Shouting at Ed, James, whatever, had been the wrong thing to do. He'd come up swinging and Bella had gone flying.

I had him by the scruff of his neck a half second later, but the damage had been done.

"You alright?" I ask Bella who is now sitting with her knees drawn up gasping for breath.

She's nodding so I know she's essentially okay. I ask the same question of the kids parents and they both nod weakly back at me so I concentrate on the squirming body in my hand.

I let his scruff go but take hold of his arm before he can dart off and cause any more trouble. "Stay put," I growl at him and watch as his eyes go wide. "I mean it, you stand right here. Don't move a fucking muscle," I warn him as I look over to the group by the desk.

"That brick's got a note tied to it," I tell Jasper who had collected what I'd dropped as we'd burst into the bunker. "Get on it," I tell him. "Give Garrett your headset," I tell him next as he drops into his chair. "Garrett, take Seth with you. I want every inch of the property searched. Alice, light this fucking place up. Like a Christmas tree. Then I want you to trace the call to Bella's cell."

Three replies of 'on it, boss' and one of 'on it, Em' from my brother are called out in the small space and then they're all rushing about doing my bidding and I can return my attention back to the other group.

"I can't let you go back upstairs yet, sorry," I grimace at Ed's parents who are obviously distraught now. "Bella, lift your eyes so I know you're okay, honey."

She does but the movement is slow. "I'm okay," she whispers and I drag in a long needed breath. "He okay?" she asks, though she doesn't throw a look the kids way at all.

I get that. I know she cares about him but I also know that right then she couldn't look at him.

I do it for her and look down at the guy at my side. He's grinning stupidly and his eyes are glassy as he stares at Bella on the floor. "Oh shit, not now Ed," I growl as I stare at him.

"You're not my type, big fella," he drawls in his ridiculous Scottish accent.

I let him go now that I know he's going to be lecherous and not aggressive. I mumble a 'fuck' or two as I try to work out how to neutralise the situation in such a confined space and just as I'm about open my mouth to tell him to take a seat and be quiet he takes the three steps between where we'd been standing and where Bella is sitting.

"This lass has already turned me down once," he all but drools as he leers down at Bella who is still sitting on the floor in front of the sofa. "But you," he nods towards Esme, "perhaps you'd be willing to fill the position?"

Esme, mouth agape, can only shake her head. I am about to step in and clock him one but he turns suddenly and scans the room. "Ooh, you look like a wee pixie," he grins at Alice, "I'd say leprechaun but you're very obviously of the female variety. No matter, what do you say to seeing my lucky charms?" he purrs.

At least I think he's purring, he could've been choking.

"Fuck off," Alice growls as she turns back to the monitor in front of her.

"Rupert," I say carefully, edging towards him as Bella gets to her feet, murder – or at the very least bodily harm – etched onto her features. "Come on Rupert, come and have a seat over here, away from the ladies," I beg as I reach for his elbow again.

He's having none of it, however. He strides to the sofa and leans over so that he's quite obviously staring right down the neckline of his mother's nightgown. "Freud always said that our deepest desires were tied up with complexes about our mummies. I wouldn't mind so much if you'd been me mam," he says before licking his lips lecherously.

"Christ," I hear Carlisle moan as he pulls Esme closer in to his chest and away from the leering 'Rupert'.

"He's harmless," I tell Ed's dad, though I'm not convinced he believes me as Ed swings around again and takes a step towards Bella.

She's on her feet then, squaring off with him, ready to protect herself from his lechery.

"I'm feeling a wee bit tense, and a wee bit stiff," he drawls with a carnal smirk on his lips. Wouldn't mind giving me a rub, would you?" he asks her, his eye brows raised hopefully.

"Um, Rupert I wouldn't ..." is all of the warning I manage to get out before Bella draws back her fist and snots him right in the jaw. "Yeah, that's what I was trying to tell you," I chuckle as Ed goes down like a sack of shit, face planting the floor with a dull thud.

Jasper and Carlisle are on their feet by the time the kids head hits the carpet but I stand them down as quickly as I can. They go back to their previous positions while I take in the form of my mark.

I expect him to be out cold, Bella packed a good punch by the looks of things, but to my dismay the fucker rolls onto his back and starts cackling like an idiot. He's rubbing his jaw so I knew it had hurt despite his next words.

"You hit like a lass," he tells Bella who's hopping from foot to foot now, probably trying to work out the best way to get around me to have another shot. I'm not having that.

"Alright, we're done here," I tell her before I reach down and hold out a hand for Ed.

"You're really not my type," the dickhead tells me again in his shitty Scottish accent. "Plus, where I come from the lass and I just got married."

I ignore his comment and keep my hand outstretched for him, my other hand behind me, holding Bella away. She's chomping at the bit to finish the job and I'm starting to wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just let her knock him clean out and save us all the effort of having to try to contain him.

"Get up," I tell him sternly and he does take my hand. "Come on," I tell him as I take a hold of his upper arm and begin dragging him towards the stairs. I can't let him out of the bunker, but there's a door at the top and bottom and I can lock him in between them.

He's struggling in my grip, cursing me in Scottish, and then the stupid fucker looks over his shoulder and compounds the problem.

"Don't fret, lassie, I like it rough," he drawls as I shove him through the doorway.

"Fuck off, Rupert!" Bella shouts as I grab for the door and get ready to close it on his smug looking face.

"Raincheck, sweetheart!" Ed calls but the last syllables are muffled because I've already shut him into the stairwell.

"Alright, honey?" I ask Bella, who's now cuddled up on the sofa with Ed's parents.

"Fine," she mumbles before giving me a slight nod.

"I have to take care of this," I tell her, nodding back towards Jasper and Alice.

"Go," she says with a wave of her hand, "Do what you gotta do. Just keep him away from me."

"I will," I promise as I pull a chair up to the desk. "What have you got?" I ask neither of my employees in particular.

"You go Alice, I'm still working on this," Jasper says, his fingers really flying over the keys on his laptop.

"The message was as expected," she begins as she hands me a handwritten copy of it. I understand her not wanting to relate the actual message to me out loud, not with Bella and Ed's parents in the room. "Pretty standard threat and pretty standard consequences. The voice was distorted, just like Bella described the call at her office that day. I've had no luck tracing it but I didn't think I would. Sorry boss," she grimaces.

"I know it was distorted but a guess on the sex of the caller?" I ask, knowing the request is probably futile.

"No clue," she shakes her head. "It's a professional sounding device. Not a toy or a hobbyist's gadget. I'm guessing high end piece of gear. You want to listen to the actual message in case you can make something out?"

"In a minute," I tell her as I stare down at the copy. "So this person knows she's got a man guarding her and that she's here, with us," I muse out loud. "You think that's a guess?"

"If it was just the phone message yes," Jasper pipes up, "but not after reading this note," he says as he hands me the crumpled, slightly singed page that had been tied to the brick that had broken my barn window.

_Edward Cullen - gone_

_Bella Swan - gone_

_Esme Masen - gone_

_Carlisle Masen - gone_

_Emmett McCarty - gone_

_Alice Brandon -gone_

_Jasper Whitlock - gone_

_Seth Clearwater - gone_

_Your brother was a bonus._

_So many left behind in the city to choose from._

The word gone after each name makes me feel sick.

The message left on the cell phone had confirmed what we'd all suspected all along. Jake Black was threatening our marks.

He knew exactly who was staying in the house and by the looks of the last line he knew that we'd left some of the team behind in LA.

"Anything to go on from the note itself?" I asked a frantically typing Jasper, not wanting to let the other group in the room know that our suspicions had been confirmed in case they panicked.

"Nothing," he replies quickly.

"Anything in the yard?" I ask Alice who had turned her attention back to the monitors that showed us the backyard of the house lit up, just like I'd asked her to do.

"Nothing," she sighs. "Seth's sweeping the front yard, Garrett's there," she says, pointing to the black shadowy form making its way along the very back fence line.

"Tell them to keep looking," I instruct her. Then to Jasper, "I trust your judgement and if you say there's nothing more to be learnt from the note then that's good enough for me. Switch focus. I want to know how he tripped my alarms all at once." Jasper gives me his nod and gets right back to work on his new task. I pull my cell phone from my pocket and turn my attention to the others. "You're going to hear some things that frighten you over the next few minutes but I want you to know that you're safe here, in the bunker with us, and when the time comes for us to leave here I'll do everything I can to make you all safe then too. Alright?" I ask the three people still huddled together in the back corner of the room.

"I trust you," Bella tells me as clearly as she can muster under the circumstances. "But please, please, don't let anything happen to Seth out there," she says, nodding to the monitors that now showed him walking carefully in parallel lines up my front yard.

"I won't," I tell her honestly. "I'm sorry for dragging you both into all this," I tell Ed's parents just as truthfully.

"You gave him back to us. We'll be eternally grateful," Carlisle mumbles. "Just keep him safe, we'll be okay."

I nod and take up my phone. I hate having to make these very necessary calls where I can be overheard but I wasn't ready to let anyone out of the safety of the bunker just yet.

"Sam, its Emmett, stand down. He's here and it went pretty much how we expected it would," I tell the guy left behind who is chomping at the bit to get a shot at Jake Black. I hear Bella's gasp and Alice' huff as I listen to Sam's response and I know I'm going to have to explain myself the instant I end the call.

"We'll keep eyes on all the assets," Sam assures me and after I tell him he's done a good job I disconnect the call.

As expected I'm assaulted instantly.

"Tell me you didn't use Edward's parents as bait," Bella accuses.

"I did," I admit.

**BPOV**

"Motherfucker," I hiss as I get to my feet. My knuckles were still stinging from having hit Edward, or Rupert, or whoever the fuck he thought he was right then, but I thought I might just have a big enough pain threshold to have a crack at Emmett left in me.

"One free shot," he tells me as he squares his shoulders and juts his jaw out.

I don't hesitate. I hit him square on the point of his chin and while he doesn't go down like Edward had he does stumble back some. I'm happy with that. It was enough. Just.

I hear both Jasper and Alice stifling their guffaws but I don't give them any of my attention. Instead I stare straight ahead at Emmett.

"We good?" he asks as he covers his chin with his hand and begins to rub.

I'm happy with that too so I nod. "You owe them," I say, nodding towards Esme and Carlisle who look like they're more shocked from this display than they'd been when the alarms had been blaring, or when their son had switch personalities.

Emmett, and lucky for him, turns to them right away. "I'm sorry. I know it's not enough but I am sorry. It had to be this way and I couldn't say anything to you before because I didn't want either of you driving here with even more worry on your shoulders than you already had."

"You did what you thought you had to do," Carlisle concedes, far too magnanimously for my liking. "But, I would like to know what you thought this would accomplish?"

It's a good question and even though Em doesn't look as though he wants to share the answer the scowls from everyone in the room must convince him it's in his best interests to spill, so he does.

"Keep working," he tells Alice and Jasper and immediately they begin tapping away on their computers again. "Check in with Seth and Garrett," he says as an afterthought and after a few seconds Alice reports that they've found nothing other than foot prints leading to and away from a back part of a fence.

Em turns his attention back to us and after a short sigh he pulls his rolling chair away from the desk and sits in it facing us on the sofa. "All of us are convinced that Jake is behind the threats and we're also pretty sure that his association with Tanya means he was either there the day Charlie was killed, or he was there after the fact.

"But, despite every available body I've got trying to find him we've got nothing. No sighting. No movement. As soon as Alice linked him and Tanya together I've had the guys back in the city trying to find him, but he's just not visible. It's frustrating," he sighs. "And then I decided to bring Carlisle and Esme and the idea started to form that if he refused to stick his head above the bunker back in the city I might be able to draw him out, draw him to us here.

"But I want you all to know that you're safe here. I'd never have done it this way if there was any doubt in my mind that he'd be able to actually get to any of you here. I never would have.

"And I was right. He never got close to the house, just the barn. But this whole mess has done exactly what I thought it would. His ego is his driving force and it's that that's bought him here. So now I know where he is, which will make it easier for me to get us out of here and back to the city now that I know he's not back there lying in wait.

"It's a six hour drive and if we leave quickly he can't beat us back there. It isn't possible. So yeah, I lured him here using the parents as bait, but I've also created the means to get you all back as safely as I can."

It's a good speech and I am pissed that it is so good and that it makes such good sense. Strategically it is brilliant. But I'm pissed.

"Fine. I assume we need to get packing?" I huff as I get to my feet.

He throws a look over towards Alice and Jasper and asks for a report.

"The call's untraceable," Alice laments.

"As expected," Em concedes. "Jasper?"

Jasper taps a little longer than looks up. "He hacked the main line in. Bypassed all the codes by assigning new ones and then tripped every alarm manually, from a remote handset," he says.

"Jesus Christ," Em mutters, "Okay, get as much info as you can about how he did it. Alice, get my brother and Seth back to the house. Don't take your eyes off those monitors until you see them on the back porch. Jasper, as soon as you're sure you've got all you can on the alarm situation start packing up your gear. It all goes back into the vehicle you arrived in. You'll need to switch cars at Garrett's again," he tells his crew before turning to us three. "I'll get Ed out of the stairwell and see what condition he's in. If need be I can sedate him if he hasn't switched back to himself yet. If he hasn't I'll need you to pack his things, Bella."

"Done," I say as firmly as I can.

"Esme, Carlisle, pack up your things and load them back into your RV. You'll be leaving first. You can't travel as quickly as we can in that type of vehicle, so you're setting out first. Seth will follow at your pace but I want you to be careful. Careful driving I mean. There's no need to rush and you'll be sitting ducks if you have a crash, so drive normally but carefully. Alright?" he asks.

Carlisle's already on his feet. "Whatever you need," he's assuring Emmett. "We can be ready to go in just a few minutes."

"Call out when you are," Em tells him. "Give me a minute to sort out your son and you can get moving."

Em disappears into the stairwell but he's not gone long. He strides back into the room, his features are drawn and he looks disappointed and I know, before he actually says it, that he's met Rupert in the stairwell and not Edward.

We all watch as he goes to the secure cabinet and I can't help but let out a sigh when I see him withdraw a small white box of pills. "It won't hurt him," he promises me and after I nod, a little reluctantly, he goes back to the stairwell.

Alice begins talking into her headset again, even as she is throwing cables and equipment into great big, black plastic, lockable cases, so I look to the monitors to make sure that Seth and Garrett are indeed safely back in the house. They are.

I watch their progress. They both stop to talk to Em who now has Edward by the scruff of his neck and is heading up the stairs with him. There is a brief conversation and then they are both there in the bunker with us.

Seth comes right to me. "Are you alright?" he asks, looking me over from head to toe.

I'm nodding, but I'm also cradling my hand against my chest.

"Broken?" he asks but I shake my head. "Take an ice pack from the kitchen when you bug out, okay? Keep it on the whole time you're in the car," he tells me.

"I'm not travelling back with you?" I ask, slightly panicked at the thought.

"Not this time, boss," he says almost sadly. "You're going with the boss and Ed. He's going to need you there if the sedative wears off. I'm going to follow Esme and Carlisle but I'll be at Ed's house before you get there, and you'll be fine with Em, I promise, okay?"

I nod but again it's hesitant. "Okay," I tell him eventually.

He looks towards the monitors and I do too. The stairwell is clear now, Em having taken Edward upstairs. "Okay people, time to pack and get moving," Seth announces and then it's a rush to all get up the stairs to our rooms.

**Emmett POV**

The cars are all but packed. The house is locked up tight except for the front door we'll exit from. I've reset the alarms and done a second bypass to cancel out Jake's. I check my watch and calculate that the Masen's had a good forty minutes head start on us which should put us all back in the city, at Ed's house, within just a few minutes of each other if we left soon ourselves. Seth had gone with them, just a few feet between the RV and his SUV and so far I hadn't heard a word from him, which meant he was all good.

"Go," I say simply to Jasper and Alice who are also packed and ready to go. They both wish us luck and then they're gone too. "Garrett!" I shout through the house. He comes up from the bunker within seconds and I lead him into the living room.

Ed's asleep on the sofa and Bella's sitting beside him, his hand in hers as she stares off into space.

"You good to go?" I ask my brother before going to the fireplace.

"Whenever you're ready," he tells me.

I get down on my knees by the fireplace and then lean in to it. I angle my arm upwards, and towards the back of the chimney, and pull out the plastic wrapped bundles of cash I kept there.

"Take mom to the place," I tell him firmly before setting the cash in his hand. "Stay with her and call me when you get there."

"Be careful, Em," he says fondly.

"I always am," is my simple reply and as he claps me on the back I can feel the adrenalin of our trip begin to build. "Get going," I tell him and he dashes from the house. "I want to be out of here in five minutes," I tell Bella, knowing that Ed won't wake for hours.

**BPOV**

We've been driving for twenty nine minutes. Emmett's eyes haven't wandered from dead straight ahead in all that time. Edward sleeps in the backseat, slumped over with the seatbelt holding him as upright as it can. I sit in the passenger seat in shock.

"Look behind us," Emmett says all of a sudden, startling me.

I do as he says and see a black SUV cruising along behind us just so.

"That's Jasper and Alice, they're perfectly fine," he tells me.

I turn in my seat again and look at that SUV for a few more seconds. Relief floods my system knowing that they're okay and that we aren't alone now.

I face the front again and set my eyes on the winding white line down the centre of the highway as we speed along. "Did you mean it?" I ask carefully, gathering my thoughts knowing he was going to ask what. Sure enough he does. "You told us, in the bunker, that you had this under control. That us going back to the city under these circumstances is a good thing. Did you mean it or are we running away again?"

I see his fingers clench at the wheel just a little before he answers. "I meant it," he says evenly. "And we aren't running away this time. This time we're running towards. We've been on the defensive all this time because we had no clue who or what we were dealing with. We have more information now, so now we go on the offensive."

"We?" I ask.

"Yes, we. I didn't ask you to take up a headset and help last night, but you did. And I'm betting that if push had come to shove you'd have shot a fist sized hole in anyone who came into that bunker to get at you, right?" he asks.

"Maybe," I hedge. "I have no idea what I'd do if I was ever put under that amount of pressure."

"I think you do know, and I think I know too. So yeah, it's we now Bella," is the reply.

I think on it for a bit but can't form a coherent question so I'm just quiet. I watch the trees as they zoom by. I look in the side mirror and keep track of how far back Alice and Jasper are. I cross and uncross my legs. I readjust my ponytail. I turn the icepack over and press it to my hand for a few moments before turning it over again.

"Why did you divorce him?" Emmett asks, breaking the silence.

I sigh. I can't help it. "He's a bastard," I mumble.

"We figured as much," he agrees but I know he's waiting for more.

"He's manipulative, secretive, obsessive and cruel," I snarl far too loudly for the tiny space in the cabin. My words seemed to bounce around before settling.

"Explain the manipulation," Em says calmly, which in turn calms me a little.

"He worked hard to make me believe Edward abandoned me," I say with more than a little shame.

"Not your fault. It would've looked exactly like that at the time," Em shrugs.

"To someone else, yeah," I sigh, "But it shouldn't have looked like that to me."

"But Jake kept it up," he correctly surmised.

"Almost constantly at first."

"And the secrets?" he asks.

"His business at first," I tell him. "I was allowed to do his books but I wasn't ever allowed to know what sort of jobs he was doing and for whom. Then it spread to his personal life, which should've actually been my personal life with him seeing as I was his wife, but he started being secretive out of hours too."

"Other women?" he asks.

"Probably but I never had proof."

"I'm guessing that the more secretive he became the more obsessive he became?" he asks.

"Good guess," I mutter darkly.

"I've seen it before. The more the guy's got to lose by doing the wrong thing himself the more he obsesses about his woman being capable of doing the wrong thing. He starts to project his fear and pretty soon he's accusing you of doing all the things you're not, but he is," Em says sadly.

"Got it in one," I nod. "He started wanting me to account for my time. Even the drive to and from work at the restaurant, stupid things like that. Why it took me three rings to answer my phone yesterday but four the next day."

"Classic," Em hisses. "A short, sharp leap to cruelty?" he asks next, through clenched teeth.

"Actually no," I tell him. "That took a while. A year or more. Around the time I started having real trouble in my head about daddy I guess. The more angry and upset I got the more convinced Jake got that I was secretly in contact with Edward. The more I protested that it was the lack of contact I had with him that was upsetting me the angrier Jake got.

"He said my reasoning was justifying his distrust. I got lower and lower and after a while he began to punish me for my indifference."

"Physically?" Em asks cautiously.

I was happy to tell him no. "Restricting my access to money, _our money_," I sneer. "Then restricting my free time. Coming to the restaurant and causing scenes so that the staff lost respect for me. Shouting and yelling at me about my dad being gone and Edward being gone and how I was all alone and only had him..." I trail off.

"The last straw?" he asks perceptively.

"He wanted a baby," I whisper.

Em's silent for just a little bit. "You didn't," he states matter of factly.

"I did," I correct him.

"But not Jakes baby."

"No, not Jakes baby. I told him so. I told him I didn't want to be married to him anymore if he wasn't going to support me as I tried to get some answers about my dad. I told him that I resented him for not helping me reach out to Edward when I should've done it right away, way back at the start.

"I knew that if I had a child with him and it did eventually end in divorce I'd be tied to Jake forever. That child would have to live forever with a father that was what? The best I could come up with indifferent and no child deserved that. Was he ever truthful with me?" I muse, more to myself than to Emmett as thoughts and ideas, theories and scenarios flash through my mind. "Did he ever love me? Did he ever see me as anything other than something to be won from Edward? Was he always only ever my keeper?"

We drive in silence for a bit longer, Em leaving me to my thoughts as I cry as quietly as I can in the passenger seat.

The shrill beeping of his cell phone on the dash splits the air a little ways down the road.

"Talk to me," Em says as he answers the call and hits speaker.

"We're safely to the first check point," Seth says and I let out the breath I'd been holding, worrying for my bodyguard on his trip.

"We're fifty miles behind you and closing," Emmett tells him. "Fill up and get moving fast. We'll be pulling in ourselves in about twenty minutes to fill up and get something to eat. Check in with me again at the next stop."

"Done," Seth replies. "You okay, boss?" he asks.

"You gonna answer him?" Emmett chuckles to me.

"Sorry, I thought he was talking to you," I manage to giggle. "I'm fine, Seth."

"Glad to hear it. Chin up, we'll be home soon," he says before disconnecting the call.

"Home," I whisper, though I don't realise I've said it out loud until Emmett speaks.

"Interesting concept, home. Isn't it?" he asks.

"It is," I agree. "Do think of Edward's house as home for you?" I ask.

"Ah ah, we aren't talking about me," he scolds playfully. "But, if you answer a couple more of my questions I'll answer yours after we stop to fill up," he offers.

Before I can agree his phone starts beeping again. "Talk to me," seems to be his standard greeting as he again hits speaker.

"All clear at the place," Garrett says loud and clear.

"Mom alright?" Emmett asks.

"She's fine," Garrett assures. "She says she wants to talk to you in a few days when things have calmed down," and then he switches to a whisper, "And just so you know she's talking about going to the city at some point to take Aro up on his offer of a date."

"Smarmy motherfucker," Emmett curses, but he's smiling widely as he does so. "Tell her he's a cretin and he'll break her heart. Tell her I love her and I'll call her in a few."

"Our new daddy's rich," Garrett teases, garnering a snarl that doesn't sound quite as cheerful as Emmett's last reply had. "Keep in contact, bro," Garrett continues, "you hit any trouble you call me, I'll be there."

"Thanks, bro," Emmett replies with a shake of his head. He disconnects the call and huffs once or twice before turning his attention back to me. "So, do we have a deal?" he asks.

I think back on what we'd been saying before the call and agree that we did indeed have a deal. "Ask away," I tell him with a wave.

"How'd you get away from him?" he asks, serious again.

I chuckle darkly before answering. "I didn't run in the middle of the night with only an overnight bag and my wedding rings to sell, if that's what you're picturing," I tell him straight up. "I inherited that house, with a little bit of a mortgage I admit, from dad. There was no way Jake was getting any part of it and I didn't want him in it anymore, so I told him straight up that seeing as he never thought of anything as _ours_, that everything we had he considered his, that I considered the house _mine _and that he could take what he wanted and get the fuck out of _my_ house."

"I bet he took that well," Em growls.

"Actually he did. Which scared me more than him ranting and raving," I admit. "Oh, it wasn't easy by any means, and we did argue about it a lot, but a few days later it must have gotten through that I didn't love him and I didn't want to be married to him anymore and he packed his things and left."

"What then?" Emmett asks as he signals to move around a slower moving vehicle.

"I contacted a lawyer, filed for divorce. His name had never been attached to the property and I'd been smart enough to have it in writing that he'd never have a claim on it if we married, or divorced, so all there was to sort out was money. Which I didn't want."

"You didn't press for anything?" he asks sceptically.

"I didn't want or need anything. I just wanted not to be married to him anymore. He went quietly after that," I tell him.

"Until now," he mumbles.

"Yeah, until now," I whisper. We're quiet again for a bit then. There are more questions in my head but one that just won't leave me alone. "Hey Em," I start, "I'm pretty sure its Jake that's been threatening us but what makes you so sure?" I ask.

He doesn't answer. Instead he reaches around behind the driver's seat and roots around in a satchel. When he brings his hand back around to the front he's got my cell phone in his fingers. He holds it out to me. "Listen to your voicemail," he says simply.

I take the phone from him and call my carrier to access my messages. I gasp when I hear it.

"_The whole time we were married you assured me, told me with a straight face, promised me that he was just your friend. But, you divorce me and not even a year later you're hooking up with the guy! I see you for who and what you really are now, Bella. A liar and a whore. I spent years of our marriage having to listen to his name. Years watching you just go through the motions with me when the whole time you were probably thinking of him. You were mine before you were ever his. I had you first. He'll never truly have you. He'll never get the chance. I'll make sure of it real soon."_

"No caller ID, no way to say whether the voice is male or female. No distinguishing information to trace the call or to say definitively it's from him," Em says softly.

"And nobody else on the planet who'd be so angry at me for divorcing him," I add quietly.

"His ego and his anger will bring him down, Bella," Em tells me firmly. "He's made his first mistake of many and I'm here ready, willing and able to catch him in the next."

**Emmett POV**

I pull into the gas station and wait for Jasper to pull in beside me at the next pump. Bella knows to wait and Ed's still asleep, so I get down from the cab and meet Jasper behind the vehicles.

"All clear?" he asks.

"No sign of him," I tell him. I hand him one of the untraceable credit cards we'd used on the drive to my place and tell him to fill his vehicle to the top. I do the same and before going in to pay I ask Bella what she'd like to eat.

"Something hot, I don't care what," she says simply.

"Coffee?" I ask.

"Please," she all but sighs.

"Stay put, I'll be right back. Don't open the doors for anyone," I tell her as I hit the button and wait for the telltale sound of the locks.

I order the coffee and choose a pair of pastries that don't look like they've been in the hot box for years. Jasper's sitting in a booth with Alice, a giant cookie in pieces between them on the tabletop as they chat in low voices.

I stand to the side of the counter, my eyes on the vehicles, and think about what I'd just learned.

I now had the profile Alice has assured me could only come from Bella. I knew a little about Jake's headspace. I knew about his anger and how he dealt with it, or didn't as the case warranted. I knew that he held Bella up as his, solely his, and that whilst Bella believed that after a few days he simply 'got it' that she didn't love him and wanted out of the marriage, I knew the real truth.

Jake Black didn't go quietly into the night. He didn't take his shit from that house and move on with his life. Oh no. No way.

What Jake Black did was bide his time. Silently. Patiently. Waiting. Watching. Just slinking off with his tail between his legs was so not what this guy had done.

No. Jake Black had planned. He'd researched, stalked and listened to every damn thing Bella Swan did after they split. And it would be my guess that she never gave him any reason to believe she had taken up with someone else. No guy. No casual lover. No boyfriend. No booty calls. I'd stake my left nut on that.

So Jake Black had been content to watch and listen all this time.

And then, a couple weeks ago, his wife – and I'd bet the right one he thought of her even today as his wife – fell out of a tree and gave all his sick ideas the merit he'd always known they'd had.

To him she'd just validated all the thoughts he'd ever had about her. She'd taken a lover, a boyfriend, was sleeping with a guy. Was building a life with the guy, without her 'husband'.

And that guy was _my_ guy. Edward Cullen. And Jake Black wasn't going to sit back and let that happen.

"Sir?" I hear to my left and I startle just a little.

I take the coffee and the paper bag with the pastries in it from the cashier and apologise for having gotten lost to my own thoughts. I whistle to Jasper and Alice who immediately get to their feet from their table.

"Ready to roll, boss?" Jasper asks as we go outside.

"Yeah," I tell him as the three of us cross the lot to the SUV's. "Hey Alice, you get decent reception out here on your cell?" I ask.

"Pretty good, why?" she asks.

"Call Tanya Denali's office and make me an appointment to meet with her sometime tomorrow," I instruct as though we're still in the bunker.

"Done," she says simply as she slides into the black leather interior of the rental.

I slip into mine, hand Bella the paper bag and set the two coffees into the holders in the console. As soon as we've slipped back onto the highway I renege on our deal.

"I've got a couple more questions and then it's your turn," I tell my passenger.

She eyes me beadily over the top of her pastry. "Hardly fair, but okay," she says with a little grin.

"I'll make it worth your while by not lying when you ask," I laugh before taking a sip from my cup. "I know it's pretty personal but I gotta ask. You date anyone between splitting with Jake and turning up at Ed's house?"

She chokes on her coffee a little and I've got my answer before she has to say a word. "No," is the simple answer when it comes.

"Anyone or anything less than actual dating? A casual lover? A friend with benefits? Maybe even just a guy who was a friend but the two of you hung out a bit and could've been seen in public?" I ask.

"Jesus, Em," she huffs.

"I know, and I'm sorry to ask, but it's important," I all but beg.

"Alright," she sighs, "No. Nobody. I swear. I didn't even go for coffee with a man. Jake ran all my friends off and I wasn't doing well finding new ones yet."

I'm a bit sorry to hear that, but I'm also pretty pleased with my rationale now. "Okay. Thanks for telling me even though under any other circumstances it'd be none of my business," I tell her sincerely.

"It's okay," she whispers. "You're not gonna tell me why you needed to know though, are you?" she asks and I shake my head firmly. "Fine," she huffs but I can tell it's good naturedly. "Now can I ask you some things?" she chuckles.

"Shoot," I tell her with a chuckle of my own.

"How come you're single?" she asks right away.

"Who said I am?" I chuckle.

"Hmmm," she muses. "Well then, who's the unlucky lady? And, does her guide dog like you too?" she giggles.

"Nice," I mutter. "She's not blind. She's not simple. In fact she's smart, seriously fucking smart."

"Can't be too smart if she's dating you," she laughs, but its playful teasing and not meant to hurt.

"We aren't actually dating yet," I tell her, knowing it would put an end to the teasing right away. And it does.

"What's that mean?" she asks as she turns in the seat so that she's facing me now, her eyes lit up like there's a story here and she's determined to get it out of me.

"It's complicated," I tell her.

"I can keep up," she assures me quickly.

I'm not telling her its Rose, I won't go there, but it might be nice to talk to someone about it so I go with it. To a point. "She's a medical professional and it'd be a conflict of interest if we were to start dating right now," is as close to the truth as I can go.

"So you wanna get freaky with the doctor who gives you your prostate exams?" Bella squeaks.

"Christ no!" I shout without thinking. I look over into the back of the cabin to make sure I haven't woken Sleeping Beauty and am pleased to see that he's still out to it. "Look, I can't say what she does exactly, but there is a conflict right now. There won't be forever. But she _is_ a she, and by professional I mean a proper professional, I don't pay her by the hour. Oh, wait. Yes I do," I chuckle, hoping I've not given it away with the slip.

"Oooh, the plot thickens," she muses, fingers on her chin. "Alright, I won't push you for a name or details or anything, but I know it's not a vet, you don't have a dog."

She's teasing again and I'm kinda grateful after weeks of tension and stress.

"Nope, not a vet," I laugh. "I can't have a dog anyway. Not with how much we travel."

"Dad felt like that too," she says quietly. "He travelled so much with Edward he always said it wouldn't be fair on an animal to have a part time owner. It didn't work too well having a part time dad either sometimes," she says sadly.

"He wouldn't have had to travel all that much with Ed back then though would he?" I ask. "The kid had only just started out when your dad worked for him."

"That's true. But dad was a cop before that," she tells me. "He might not have had to leave the country but he spent a lot of time away from me. Long shifts. Lots of overtime. Days on end if he was working on something big."

"Lots of ex cops end up as bodyguards," I tell her because really, what could I add to what she'd shared? I had never been a cop and I wasn't a dad.

"Similar sort of job," she agrees. "I was always worried about him when he was in a uniform and I thought that would get better when he decided to leave the force and become a bodyguard. It only got worse," she sighs.

"Protecting someone is dangerous and whether you do it in a uniform or in a suit it's the same thing. You have to have the head for it. No fear I guess. Or some shit like that. I don't know exactly..." I trail off.

"My dad said you have to be born with it," she whispers. "He said that people who protect others aren't fearless, they feel fear like everyone else, but they know how to use the fear when others run from it."

"He sounds like a smart man," I say as I'm nodding.

"Why would you want to take a bullet for someone?" she asks out of the blue.

"I don't want to," I tell her straight up. "Nobody wants to. Everyone always asks that by the way. It's mostly the first thing they think of when you say you're a professional bodyguard. They don't see, or want to see, the other parts to the job. They can only see that bit."

She's quiet a moment and then she turns even further in her seat towards me. "How did you get here? To this point? Did you wake up one morning and think yeah, I think I'd be good at this?"

I laugh then. Really laugh. "No, I didn't wake up one morning and think yeah, I'd like to be this. I wasn't good at school, academically anyway. I was good at sports. Garrett got the brains, I got the brawn our mom says. I blew my knee out my sophomore year of college and my scholarship went down the toilet with my sporting career.

"I was weighing up my options, knowing full well I'd never cut it in college if I had to rely on studying, when the guidance counsellor shoved a military brochure under my nose. I was signed up and on my way a week after I'd healed from the surgery.

"I did my time and while I was there I discovered that I was good at something other than sports. Strategy. Planning. Observing. Overcoming fear was at the top of the list. I was a crack shot, I liked honing my skills to get a job done and once I got to the point where I'd gone as far as the army was going to take me I got out and did the next best thing where a uniform wasn't involved."

"Where do you think you'll be in five years?" she asks.

"What? You interviewing me now?" I laugh as I take a quick look in the rearview mirror to spot my guy. He's right where he should be.

"I don't think I could afford you," she chuckles.

"Probably not," I chuckle right back, knowing she couldn't. "And I don't know where I'll be in five years. Do you?"

She shrugs. "I think anyone who says they know is an idiot."

"I agree," I tell her with a smirk. She is a smart cookie.

"Where is this going to end?" she asks suddenly, seriously. "Once Edward's better will you move on? Find another mark? Will the challenge be gone for you?"

I know what she's asking. I understand her concern. But I'm happy to alleviate her worry. "I took cooking classes for this kid, I'm pretty sure I'm in this for the long haul with him. I know the difference between a pie and a flan for fucks sake!" I laugh.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**And thank you to everyone at Ficsisters who have featured this story this week, and published the recommendation my DH wrote to accompany it on the site. So proud of him and so thankful this story is being so well received. **

**Please review. **


	17. Chapter 17

**EPOV**

"Come on buddy," Emmett tells me and then I'm being lifted and my stomach lurches. "Don't puke down my back," he warns me but he's too late. "Oh Jeez, I liked this shirt," he mutters.

"Sorry," I mumble, unsure whether I'd said the word correctly.

My lips feel fat. My head is pounding. I have no idea where I am or how I got there. I've puked and I'm going to again. Soon.

"I'll get it," I hear behind us and then somewhere there is the sound of a door opening.

Then I'm being lowered onto a bed. I hope it's mine. In my own house. But I have no clue. I've got my eyes clamped shut against the bright overhead light.

"Go and clean up, I've got him," I hear her say and then footsteps move away. A door closes.

I'm left alone for a few minutes and then I'm told there is a bucket to my left if I need to be sick again. It's a good serving suggestion and its one I take advantage of immediately. I retch and retch over the side of the bed and hope I'm hitting that bucket.

"You're alright. You're alright," she chants softly at my side but I doubt the validity of the statement.

I don't feel alright. Not at all.

But, for the first time in years I know why. "I switched," I croak before retching again.

"Yeah, you did," she says.

I know her voice. I know her smell. I know the feel of her hands on me, caring for me. I know why she's here. I know she knows. She's Bella and she's here with me because it's where she wants to be.

"Where are we?" I groan as I shift back onto my back.

"Your house in the city," she tells me as she wipes over my mouth and face with a cool, wet cloth. "You switched at Emmett's and he gave you some tablets so that you could sleep on the drive home. You came around a little bit just out of the city but you slept almost the whole way."

"Okay," I tell her, unable to add anything more with nausea doing its best to wrack my body.

"Everyone's here safely," she tells me, still wiping me down with the cloth. "Your parents have put the RV in the back and they're already asleep in a room down the hall. Seth was right behind them and he's already sleeping too. Alice and Jasper came with us and they're helping Em empty the car I think."

I'm glad she's talking because I can't. I want to, but the mere thought of it makes my throat convulse. I reach for her hand and squeeze it now that she's silent, hoping she'll understand that I want her to keep talking to me.

"What is it?" she asks. "What do you need?"

"Garrett," I manage to get out from between barely parted lips.

"Oh, right. He's okay too. Em had him collect their mom and take her somewhere. I don't know where, but they had it all organised so it must be somewhere safe," she tells me.

I squeeze her hand again and hope, again, that she'll keep talking. I need details now. Now that I know that I switch personalities and lose hours I need her to fill them in for me. I squeeze again and again.

"Um," she stumbles, "I packed up all your things and I'm pretty sure I didn't leave anything behind when we left. I rode with you and Em this time, you asleep in the backseat. Um, Em says he has a plan but I don't know what it is yet."

She's rambling, about things I don't care about. Well, I do care that Em says he has a plan but I don't care about my things or who rode with whom. I want to know if anyone found anything out about who set off the alarms. So I squeeze her hand again and again.

She's silent for a minute and as I'm dragging in long, slow breaths so that I can ask the question for myself I work it out. She's stalling.

I roll so that I'm on my side a little, facing the side of the bed that's got the bucket on the floor by it. I take a minute or so to calm back down and when I think I can safely open my mouth without vomit coming out of it I ask her who broke into Emmett's house.

"In the morning," she tells me.

But I need to know. Now. I want to know. For the first time I know what's happening to me and I want to know what's happening around me. "Please," I beg as I lean over that bucket and empty what's left in my belly.

"Shhh, you're alright," she croons as she wipes my mouth again.

She holds a water bottle to my lips and I sip gratefully. But I'm not letting go of the question so I ask it again. As best I can.

"Jake," she says sadly. "It's all Jake. And I'm so, so sorry," she whispers as she runs her fingers through my hair to get it out of my eyes. "He hacked into the security system I think. He threw a brick through the barn window before he set it on fire and there was a note on it. I don't know what it said," she says, speaking very quickly now, as though she's rushing through the answer so I'll leave it alone.

"Voicemail," I croak as I roll back onto my back again.

"Yeah," she sighs heavily. "He left a message on my phone. That's why we're certain that Jake is behind all the threats."

I nod. It's all I can do. I'm spent. Sick. Exhausted though I know she's said I've slept all the way home. "Come on," I whisper, hoping she'll get what I mean.

"I'll clean up and come to bed," she tells me with one more sweep of my hair and then she's gone.

I hear her moving about. I hear the clang of the bucket hitting the bottom of the bathtub and then the water coming on and then switching off. I hear the taps in the sink and the rasp of her toothbrush. The flush of the toilet. The rustle of clothes being discarded somewhere near me in the room. And then she's there. Right beside me. A fresh cloth in her hand that she's smoothing over my dry lips and down my throat. Her other hand on my chest. The heat of her skin warming me as I drift into the blessed blackness of sleep.

**Emmett POV**

"How is he?" Jasper asks as he comes into the kitchen looking like death the next morning.

"He was sick when I moved him from the car but Bella hasn't come for help so I figure he's okay now," I tell him as I set the kettle back on to re-boil. "How you two doing?" I ask as I set out mugs on the counter.

"We're good. A bit stiff from the drive but good. Ready to get back to work," he tells me pointedly.

"Good. This is gonna get rougher before it's fixed," I warn him.

"Bring it on," he mumbles as he reaches for an apple from the bowl. "Tell us what you need and we'll do it."

I pour him a coffee and set the mug in front of him. "There's one week clear before Ed's needed at the studio for pre-production shit for the next film. I want this done and dusted, as much as it can be, before then. If it's possible. If we get a lucky break.

"We know who we're up against now so this has to be done right. Their safety has to be the priority. I want Jake found. I want him watched. I want to know every detail of every move he's made since Bella came here that day and I want to know what he's got going with Tanya."

Jasper's quiet for a second or two and then he takes a good slug of his coffee. "I don't think there's anything else I can find out about him and Tanya and whatever it is they're involved in together, so that's gonna have to come from one of them personally."

"And that's why I had Alice make an appointment for me to meet with her today," I tell him as I set my now empty cup in the dishwasher.

"Why set up an appointment though? You've tipped your hand," he says, cocking his head to the side.

"I did it so she'd think it was business. About Ed. About their contract or his work. Or money or the films or whatever."

"She'll think she's in with a shot to get him back as a client," he says quietly, considering it. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to wait until the kid's up and moving and then I want Alice to sit down with him and map out what he wants to do with his parents. If he wants them here, and they're agreeable, I want her to close out their life in that trailer park and get them set up here. Or wherever it is they want to go.

"I want Seth to do the same with Bella. If she wants to be here I need her house closed up and her things bought here. If she wants to go somewhere else I need you to both work together to make sure it's secure.

"Until she decides I want Seth where she is at all times. No gaps. Not for any reason. If she's out of this house he's with her. No arguments. If she has to go to the restaurant he goes too. The kid won't be leaving, at all, until this is done," I tell him.

"And me?" he asks.

"Call Aro and tell him that we're back safely. Tell him we've not managed to fix the situation yet so Ed won't be available for anything public until we have. Tell him that Ed will be at the already scheduled pre-production meetings in a weeks time but other than that to count him out until this is in the can. Then call Rose and she if she'll come here for his session this week, he's not leaving this place even for that.

"After that I want you to make sure that the security here at this house cannot be breached like mine was last night," I huff. "I don't care what it costs, or who or what you rope in to help, but I want this place impenetrable. Like a fucking prison. Call Kate and tell her we'll be travelling for the next month. Pay her the month up front and tell her we'll call her once we're back."

"A bunker like you had at your place would come in handy right about now," he chuckles.

"When I get back from this meeting with Tanya I'll show you the one here. It's a similar set up," I grin.

"Motherfucker," he huffs. I grin again but say nothing more about it. "What about Jake?" he asks.

"Sam and his crew are still looking. Give him anything he needs if he asks for it. If Jake shows his face they'll report it to either you, me or Seth. Until he does we get our own ducks in a row. We aren't blind anymore. We know its him, we know what he wants. We just have to be ready to stop it when he tries," I tell him as I move out of the kitchen and towards my office door.

"I'll get started," he tells me as he begins his dash back down the hallway. Probably to get dressed. He looked eager.

I, however, feel dread. Tanya isn't going to spill what she knows easily. She isn't going to show me her hand without a little coercion. And I have nothing to coerce her with but bluff. There is nothing she wants from me, or the kid, that I can bargain with. Only lies.

And she isn't stupid, which isn't going to help.

I snatch up the keys from the hook by the front door and hope that the lies I have planned are going to be enough to get me the answers I need.

**BPOV**

"Can you?" I ask as I pant against his throat.

"Yeah," he grunts as he bucks his hips, pushing his erection upwards against me.

We're fully clothed still. He's lying on his back, with me lying along his body, my hands in his hair and his fingers digging into my hips. He's thrusting, I'm grinding, and I'm close. So damn close.

The room smells like stale vomit and sweat. My skin feels clammy and gross after a whole day without a shower. His hair smells of stale cigarette smoke and sickness.

And I don't fucking care.

He's lifting his hips and I'm grinding and I'm so damn close that none of that matters.

"So good," he growls by my ear.

I mumble something in return but don't lift my head from where it's still tucked up by his throat. I splay my thighs a little more and reset my position above his cock. He's so hard and I'm so wet and I'm reaching for the orgasm I desperately want but seems just a little out of reach.

He moves his hands and now he's holding me to him harder, his fingers spread over the cheeks of my ass as he shoves me forward and back over his length. He's breathing hard, moaning, his hips bucking furiously. And then he comes. His shout is muffled because he's turned his head and has buried his lips in my hair but I hear it. I hear his pleasure. He tells me. Talks to me through it. Tells me how good it feels. I can feel the thumping of his heart beneath my own chest and the slowing rhythm of his thrusts as he spills into his pants.

I haven't come.

I think he's not realised and I start to feel a little hurt.

I start to think he doesn't care and I feel the hurt spread just a little bit more.

But he takes one, longer deep breath in and then he's using the palms of his hands to push me off him. I roll to the side, expecting him to get out of the bed and head for the bathroom, but he's there then. Hovering over me, clawing at the zipper of my jeans.

Its only seconds and I'm bare for him. Another second and his fingers are pinched gently around my clit. Half a minute before I'm the one clawing at him. His hips, his shoulders, his wrist to guide his hand.

And then I'm bursting into a million shiny pieces as my climax rushes through me. And he's smiling. He's grinning above me. Talking me through it. Begging me to let go for him. Telling me I'm beautiful as I come for him. I'm falling apart on his hand and he's smiling down at me. His crooked grin getting bigger and bigger as I ride the wave of pleasure he's given me.

And the little bit of hurt is nowhere to be found.

"Good morning," he chuckles as he withdraws his hand.

"Great morning," I laugh in reply.

"Shower?" he asks as he throws his legs over the side of the bed.

"I'll wait here," I tell him as I pull the covers back over me.

"No," he laughs. "I meant, come with me to the shower?"

He's asked this with his back to me, probably self consciously, and I can't help but grin to myself. "Sure, you go ahead, I'll be in in a minute."

I wait until I hear the toilet flush and then the shower water come on and then I sprint down the hallway to another bathroom a little ways along. I do my business fast and then I run back towards Edward.

I strip quickly and slip into the enormous shower with him. "You probably don't remember..." I begin to say but he grabs me around the waist and pulls me up against him and I forget what I'm going to say. He's not gentle as he tugs me to him and buries his lips at my throat.

"We showered together at Emmett's," he finishes for me after his lips leave mine. "I don't exactly remember, I think I'd switched. But I saw our clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor and figured we did."

"You woke up in the night upset," I tell him as I step out of the embrace and reach for his shampoo.

"I thought I had blood on me," he says as he reaches for his toothbrush and the paste.

"You did," I tell him honestly. "You couldn't settle or calm even though I took you into the bathroom and showed you in the mirror there that there was no blood on you. So I put you into the shower," I say as calmly as I can while I rinse my hair.

He spits the spent toothpaste as close as he can to the drain at our feet and then puts his brush back on the ledge on the wall. "I've got a new one for you here," he tells me, handing me a still wrapped toothbrush. He takes some shampoo and lathers his hair. "Do you think I imagine it? Seeing blood?" he asks softly.

I've cleaned my teeth and now I'm soaping up my body, and it feels so good to be getting clean, as I think about what he's asking. "No. I don't think you imagine it. When you've switched you imagine you're someone else, that's true, but I think what you experience in your dreams might have been real for you."

"Your dad," he whispers as he leans back and rinses his hair.

"I think so," I mumble, tears springing to my eyes. They are a mixture of sorrow for the loss of my dad and happy tears because Edward seems willing and capable of having this conversation when I know full well that just a few days ago he'd never have coped with it.

"What should I do?" he asks as we switch places so he can rinse the soap off himself under the spray.

I step away a little and lean my back against the cold, glass wall. "I don't know. I wish I did," I admit.

He's quiet as he stands under the stream. We switch spots again and he leans on the glass while I roll my shoulders under the hot water. We switch again and I can't help but take glances at his beautiful body.

I'm quite comfortable being naked with him. I'm not nervous or self conscious. He doesn't seem to be either. But we are quiet. There's a lot going on around us. A lot undecided. A lot of unknowns. But this...us here, together, naked and sharing, that isn't an unknown now.

"Who hit me?" he asks.

The question's from left field but there's no point lying to him, so I don't. "I did." He nods, accepting that at face value. "Just so you know, I hit Emmett too."

"Did he hit you back?" he asks, his eyes wide. I shake my head and he grins. "Did he deserve it?" I nod. "Did I?" he asks next.

"At the time, yeah," I sigh.

He rubs his jaw a little then but says nothing more about it. "Stay here, with me?" he asks out of the blue, startling me.

"The guys will make sure my house is safe..." I begin, but he's already shaking his head as he comes away from the glass and takes my chin into the palm of his hand.

"No," he says simply and I blink, wondering what he means. "I don't want you to stay here with me because it's safer here, or not safe there, or whatever," he huffs. "I want you here with me because I love you and I want to be with you, everyday. I want you here, with me, because I never want to wake up without you ever again. I want to go to bed every night knowing you're here, beside me.

"I know you have a home of your own that you love. I know you have a job, and a life, and things to do. But I want you here. Even if it can't be now. I want you here and I wanted you to know."

My tears are mixing with the shower spray before I open my mouth. "It was daddy's house..." I sob. I try to finish my sentence but he's already speaking over me.

"Then we'll live there once this is all sorted out," he assures me as his thumbs rub away my tears.

"But the press..." I counter, knowing it wasn't ever going to be possible for us to live there. Again I go to finish the thought but he's on to the solution before I've fully expressed myself.

"Then Emmett and Jasper will make it so they can't see us," he says firmly.

But I'm shaking my head as he's speaking. "It would never work," I'm telling him even though my heart is already breaking at the thought of not living in my childhood home. I open my mouth to tell him I'll go wherever he wants to go but he's railroading the conversation again.

"Then tell me what you want and I'll make it happen. I'll buy you whatever house you want. I'll go wherever you want to go. Just let me go with you, please," he begs.

"You're not listening," I tell him sternly. "Let me finish a damn thought," I snipe. He takes a step back and lets my chin go. "I was trying to tell you that I grew up in that house, that daddy left it to me, and I do love it. I do. But I love you more. I've always loved you and I've always wanted to be with you.

"I was trying to say that the press would never leave us alone there. It's too exposed. Too open on that street. It's not built to house a celebrity. But I can't see myself selling it either. The compromise is that I'll rent it out.

"If you'd let me finish I was trying to tell you that yes, I'll stay here, with you."

I hear him murmur '_thank you god'_ and then he's kissing me. Really kissing me. All toothpasty and smelling of soap and shampoo, with the water streaming down my back he's kissing me. Holding me to him and moaning into my open mouth as our tongues dance back and forth between our lips.

"Say it again," he groans into my ear after he's done kissing along it. "Say you love me again," he begs as his tongue slides across my lobe.

"I do love you," I giggle, squirming in his arms now that he's breathing warm air into my ear and his fingers are ghosting across my stomach.

"And you're going to stay with me here," he says, his lips forming a gorgeous smile before he uses them to kiss me senseless once again.

"I'm going to stay here with you," I recite as he'd asked.

**Emmett POV**

"I have an appointment," I tell Angela, Tanya's long time, long suffering personal assistant when I get to the enormous reception desk.

She keeps her eyes lowered and I know she's in an impossible position. We'd always gotten along well, Angela and I, but now she had a living to make and no doubt I am enemy number one in the office these days. I get it. I am sorry for it because of her, but I get it.

"Mr McCarty's here Ms Denali," Angela says into the handset at her side and after she's received her instructions she gives me a wan smile after disconnecting the call. "This way please," she says as she ushers me back towards Tanya's office.

Tanya, looking her usual slutty self in a skin tight red pants suit offers me the chair opposite her desk and then goes around to take her own. "I knew you'd come crawling back here once you realised I'm the best agent in this town," she grins smugly once she's seated.

I look around myself dramatically. "I could've sworn I walked in on two legs. No crawling here, Tanya," I say cockily.

She steeples her hands in front of herself and pouts in a way that she probably thinks makes her look charming, or coquettish. What it makes her look like is a simpering viper. "Fifteen percent," she says with an evil grin.

I chuckle then. She's ridiculous. She's an egotist and even though she's not stupid she's right where I want her. "Not a fucking chance," I laugh.

"Fourteen and top end earnings going forward," she says, trying again.

I've already had enough of her bullshit and I've only been in her presence for three minutes. "I'm not here to discuss percentages and futures," I tell her snidely.

"Then why are you here talking to me?" she asks.

"Ed might not need you anymore Tanya, but I do," I say flatly, hoping to appeal to her ego.

Her eyes widen significantly and my skin begins to crawl. I'm hoping against hope that she doesn't think I've just hit on her. She regards me for a few seconds more, probably plotting, and then she grins. "I'm not taking on new clients right now and I doubt very much that you have what it takes to be an actor."

"I don't need an agent for myself," I laugh. "And I wouldn't pay you to take out my trash. But I do need answers and I knew you'd never agree to see me if I didn't at least make it sound like I wanted to talk turkey."

I'm pleased she decided to come to Hollywood as an agent and not an actress because she sucks at it, probably more than I do. I'm cataloguing her tells and she's broadcasting them to me like beacons on a deserted beach.

Her face has flushed, she's biting the inside of her lip and her eyes are darting around the room, probably looking for an easy exit. She's not going to get one. Not this time.

"Answers about what?" she asks, working hard now to keep emotion out of her voice and the panic from her features. She knows exactly what I want to know but she thinks I'm an idiot.

"I want to know everything you know about what happened the day Charlie Swan was murdered," I state calmly, using the word murder to intimidate her. The incident had only ever been referred to as Charlie having been killed, or shot, or as an accident between us before.

"I told you everything I know," she says simply, eventually, over the top of her still clasped hands.

"Now, Tanya, you and I both know that's a crock of shit," I chuckle harshly as I scoot back in my chair a little. I fold my hands into my lap, appearing to get comfortable for her benefit.

"Leave, now," she hisses as she straightens against the back of her own chair.

"Nah, I'm good right here," I tell her.

She's glaring at me now and she realises she's been stupid for agreeing to the meeting and for hoping I'd asked for it to talk about Ed coming back to her as an agent. "I have nothing else to say about it," she says, trying to make it sound firm but I can hear the telltale tremor in her voice. "I've asked you to leave, don't make me call for security."

"Call them, I don't mind."

She regards me for a few seconds. Her eyes are darting about again. She's uncomfortable and I'm working hard to remain calm and controlled. "I cleaned it up, that's all I had to do with it," she repeats as she'd done in the driveway to me that day.

"So you've said. What I want to know is why you were there at all that day and for how long," I demand sternly.

"Did Aro screw you over already?" she asks, changing the subject dramatically as she sits back down in her chair. She's stalling. She needs the time to think so she's diverting the conversation.

"Aro's brilliant," I tell her honestly. "He's not greedy. He cares about Ed's state of mind and he's willing to talk to me about anything I might need that keeps his client healthy and happy. The best part about Aro is that he won't try to fuck his own client over by screwing him out of millions, unlike you," I snarl.

"Get out," she hisses, rising to her feet quickly.

"Sit down, Tanya," I bark, startling her. "Sit your ass back down in your chair right now, and keep your voice down."

"Why should I?" she asks, ignoring my instruction.

"Because if you don't, and your raised voice alerts Angela, you'll have to explain to her why I'm so angry at you and I've got to tell you Tanya, I'm not above letting all the gory details come flooding out."

"There are no details," she hisses. "He signed those papers fair and square. I never coerced him. I never lied to him. He signed them because he was too stupid and ignorant to read what I put in front of him."

I'm nodding as she's hissing but it's a tactic and not because I agree with her. I want her wrong footed. I want her unsure what my motives are now. I want her worried. "You're right. He signed everything you put in front of him without reading it. And that was stupid. Very stupid because his agent is a lying, stealing, cheating bitch with only her own best interests at heart. Now, if the press happened to find out about you putting under your clients nose something you knew he wasn't going to read before he signed..." I trail off, leaving it out there.

"I did nothing illegal," she snaps across the desk.

"I know you didn't," I concede as calmly as I can. "And nobody will be able to say that you did because you're right. He should've read those pages. He shouldn't have signed something without knowing what it was. So no, nobody is going to come at you saying you did anything illegal at all, Tanya," I grin.

"So what's your point?" she asks. "There's no point you threatening to leak that information because nobody can prosecute me for that."

"Again, you're right. But you and I both know how this industry works. I leak that information and it won't matter whether what you did was illegal or not. You think your other clients aren't going to care that you screwed Ed out of millions?

"You think the press aren't going to jump all over a story like that and destroy you and your business just because they can? It's a great story Tanya. It's got everything. Intrigue. Lies. Greed. Money. Power. And the best part of all is it's about Hollywood and backdoor deals and shady agents who fuck over their clients with a smile on their rosy red lips," I smirk.

"You leak it and you destroy Edward too you fool," she snaps.

"Nah, I don't think it will actually. The way Aro plans to spin it Ed's gonna come off looking like a poor, lost, taken advantage of little boy and you'll come off looking like the money hungry bitch you are."

"So do it then," she counters immediately.

_That_ throws me. I can admit that to myself but outwardly I don't react. I don't even blink. "He's remembered," I say quickly.

Now it's her turn to try and cover her reaction. She fails, badly, and I can't help but grin. She sees it and her face turns icy, quickly. "I don't believe you," she hisses.

I've bluffed and it's been called so there's nothing for me to do now but up the ante with lies. I'm good with that. I had enough information to formulate a credible lie now.

I smile, taking my time and making sure it reached all the way to my eyes. "He remembers Jacob Black being there," I lead with. I'm reluctant to give her anything else and even though I'm only using the lie because it fits my theory I notice the instant she flinches. I've got her.

"I told you already that I cleaned it up. So what if I called someone in to do it for me? Doesn't mean squat," she manages to get past her lips, but only just.

"See, I think it does mean something because the police report doesn't mention anyone else having been there. Just you," I say, leaning forward and pointing my finger at her very, well, pointedly. "Now, I'm no cop, but even I can work out that knowing you called in a third party to help that day is some pretty interesting new information."

She aint happy but then it had never been very important to me to ensure that she was so I ignore her huff of indignation and sit forward in my seat a little.

I don't give her a chance to reply, just keep right on in. "Now Jake Black's an interesting guy and I'm sure the cops would like to interview him about his involvement that day. So if you don't tell me what I want to know I'll just go right to the station and ask them to bring him in for a chat. They'll be real happy to have new information. Charlie being one of their own and all," I grin.

Her face visibly pales then. She's blinking rapidly and twisting her fingers in the hem of her jacket as she absorbs what I've said. "I told you everything I know," she says again but this time the fight's gone out of her. "I've admitted I called Jake," she tacks this on the end, probably hoping to appease me.

"Details," I insist. "And I know a lot more now than I did a few months ago so don't fucking lie to me about this anymore," I warn.

I'm lying through my teeth but I can see that she believes me. I only have one more trump card and I don't want to use it yet so I hope beyond hope that she spills now. Her bottom lip begins to tremble as she contemplates her next words. "I don't know who killed him," she begins but I hold up a hand to stop her quick smart.

"I don't give a fuck what you _don't _know," I seethe, out of patience now. "I told you to tell me what you do know. I want to know why you went to the house if neither Charlie nor your client was supposed to be there."

"I got a call from the booking agent at the airport," she mumbles.

"So?" I ask.

"They were supposed to be flying to San Diego for a Comicon convention that morning but they never made the flight. The booking agent called me to ask if I wanted to reschedule the flights," she tells me blandly.

"What time was their flight?"

"I don't know. It was five years ago," she huffs.

"Try and remember," I snarl.

"Eight thirty, nine in the morning. Something like that."

"Okay, so they didn't show for their early morning flight. So what did you do about it?"

"I tried to fucking call them, obviously," she snaps.

"Watch your tone," I warn her with a point of my finger. "How exactly did you try to contact them?"

"I called the house and got no answer. So I tried them each personally."

"So you got no answer from their cell phones and you what, what did you do next?"

"I went to a meeting," she says flatly.

"Why? What meeting?" I demand.

"I have other clients!" she shouts but when she sees my expression she cocks her head to the side and lowers her voice. "I didn't have time to check it out right away. I had a meeting with another client about a contract so I went to that."

"Fine," I spit. "So you went to your meeting. What then?"

"I asked around a bit. I checked at the studio in case Ed had been called in for something last minute but nobody there had seen him that morning."

"What then?"

"I stayed back here. I had other meetings. Calls to make. Bookings to see to. I had work to do and I didn't have the time to do Charlie fucking Swans job for him," she growls.

I do my best to ignore her indignation and try to keep her talking. "So you had no idea where they were, so what did you try next to locate them?"

"I called the guy I use who picks up cars from the airport for me but he hadn't seen them either."

"What guy?" I ask.

"I don't remember his name," she huffs. "Just a guy. From a service. You drive your own car to the airport and you pay this company to collect it and drive it home for you so you don't have to pay for long term parking. Just a guy."

"Okay, so just a guy. Go on. What did you do then?"

"I kept working here. I had Angela make a few more calls. Regular places they went. But nobody had heard from them or seen them."

I make a note to ask Angela about that at some point, but kept moving forward. "Were you worried by that point? It must have been a few hours since the call from the travel agency?"

"I don't remember," she huffs.

"You better fucking start to," I counter angrily. "How many hours since the call about the flight before you made your next move?"

"I don't remember. A few. Three or four I guess," she shrugs.

The shrug, and her indifference to the details, makes me incredibly angry but I don't let her see it. "So what made you go to the house?" I ask.

"I couldn't think of anything else to do. They just weren't...anywhere," she says blandly.

I don't allow myself to soften my stance on this woman one iota as I watch her distress. I tell myself it's more than likely fake and most definitely all about her and not about Ed, or even Charlie. "What did you find when you got to the house?"

"The car," she says snidely, as though it's a stupid question to ask. "The car was in the drive. Their cases were standing off to the side of it."

"Was it unlocked? Doors open or closed?" I ask.

"Locked and closed," she answers flatly.

She says this while staring off into space. I give her no time to think, I ask my next question and keep the momentum going. "Where was Charlie?"

"He wasn't there. Neither of them were," she says as she stares blankly at me. "The house was open. The front door was wide open but neither of them were there. I called and called. I walked through the whole place and called and called and called."

"So they weren't in the house," I prod.

She's shaking her head in agreement then. "But the car was still there." she says and I nod as though I do know, even though I don't. "Just the car in the drive and nobody there."

"But they weren't inside the house either," I prod again.

"No. It was quiet. Just the car and their cases in the drive."

"The police report says you found Charlie in the trunk of the car. What made you look in it?" I demand, not altogether politely or calmly now.

"I didn't right away. I went out the back, by the pool and the pool house. I even looked in the garden shed but they weren't there. So I went back out to the drive and that's when I noticed the bullet holes in the trunk of the car."

She says this all so flatly, so matter of factly, with no trace of horror or revulsion. It's sickening. To me its sickening how easily she retells what she saw when the reality of it should make a normal person lose their shit, like Ed had.

"How many holes?" I ask, already knowing the answer from the report, but wanting her to keep focused on the details from that day.

"Two."

"Did you open the trunk then?" I ask, wanting to get to the crux of the issue now.

"No. I turned the alarm off first. It would've started blaring if I just opened the trunk."

"But you said the car was locked."

"The spare keys were always on the hook inside the front door."

"So you took the spare keys and turned off the car alarm. That wasn't in the report," I tell her. She shrugs but says nothing. "What then?" I ask.

"I went back around to the trunk and had my cell phone in my hand ready to call 911."

"Did you call 911 before or after you found him?" I ask.

"After," she says flatly. "I opened it and they were both in there. Covered in blood."

Oh Christ. It had only ever been a theory before but now that I knew it was true I felt sick. Ed in the trunk of the car with Charlie's dead body. "Was Charlie already dead?" I ask.

She's nodding but doesn't speak. She's staring at me flatly, unfazed by the memory of what she'd seen. I find it repulsive. Disgusting. "What time was it that you found them?" I ask. She shrugs and I almost lose my shit. "Answer me," I hiss as I lean forward in my chair and stare her down.

"Three," she mumbles, pushing her chair away from her desk to get a little further away from me.

I make a quick calculation and hope I don't lose my breakfast now that I know its possible Ed had been in the trunk for possibly eight hours if they'd planned to leave for the airport around seven to catch the nine o'clock flight. "What did you do next Tanya?" I all but shout.

She tilts her head to one side and blinks rapidly at me. "I called Jake," she sneers.

I'm in unknown territory now. She's confirmed calling Jake and I'm happy to know it, but now I want to know why. Now I need to tread carefully because if she goes quiet on me now I've only got that one trump card up my sleeve and no way to know if it's worth what I think it is. "Why Jake Black? How did you know him back then?" I ask calmly.

She regards me in a way that I think is carefully and I pray silently that she doesn't balk because there are more answers I need before she clams up. "He did some subcontract work for a guy I'd been dating and I found him to be reliable and discreet so I took him on too, by retainer, and that's all I'm saying about that," she says matter of factly.

She's given me another lead but I show nothing on my face. "While you waited for Jake to come what did you do?" I ask.

"I pulled Ed out of the trunk of course. Charlie was gone. I could see that. I knew that," she says in a monotone. "So I thought about my client and got him out."

Her switching to the term client rather than using Ed's name is telling. She's dehumanised him. Turned him into an obligation rather than a human being who'd suffered. "So you got Ed out of the trunk and then what?"

"I closed the trunk, put the keys back on the hook and took Ed into his bedroom and cleaned him up. Made sure that none of the blood was his. Got him in the shower. I threw his bloodied clothes on the floor of the laundry room and dressed him in clean ones."

"Where did you stash him?" I ask quickly.

"I just sat him at the kitchen table to wait," she says as though it's silly for me to not already know it.

"How long did it take Jake to arrive?" I ask next.

She tilts her head again and considers it. "Not long," is her simple reply.

"When Jake came what did you do then?"

"He told me to put Ed in my car and leave."

"And did you? Did you leave right away?" I ask.

"He told me to. He said he knew what to do and that I should just take my client and go," she huffs.

"The police report says it's you who called 911 and that you were there to meet the officers who responded to your call. Where did you take Edward in between?"

"To my apartment."

"You left and Jake stayed at the house?" I ask. She looks bored now but I need just a little more. "When you left Jake stayed behind to clean up, didn't he?"

"Yes," she says matter of factly. "I don't know anything about what he did while I was gone."

"So you stashed Ed at your house and then went back. You were there when the police arrived. Jake wasn't. He'd already left, right?"

"Right," she agrees easily.

I knew without asking what Jake had cleaned up. Not the crime scene itself but the interior of the house. The evidence that Edward had showered there. The evidence that Ed had been in the trunk with the body. Anything that would show the police that Ed had even been home at the time of the shooting Jake had covered up.

I also knew that Tanya was never going to give me anything else of worth. She had been there, seen the carnage and seen death. But she'd covered it up, she'd feathered her own nest afterwards and used Edward's own pain and mental health issues against him to line her own pockets. She was evil. Wrong. Utterly devoid of any speck of compassion. And she didn't deserve for anyone to feel bad for her for what she'd seen that day.

"Why do you pay Jake five thousand dollars every month?" I ask as I get to my feet. I'm done with her and so I throw away my trump card easily and without remorse. I don't intend to ever speak to the woman, or be in her presence, ever again.

Her eyes are full of fire when she meets mine. Her lips turn upwards in a cruel, harsh grin. "Because he doesn't believe I didn't kill Charlie Swan myself," she spits.

"What does CUB mean on the payments?" I demand.

"Clean up bonus," she tells me without a flicker of emotion.

"Five grand is nothing to you. You've made a fortune off your clients, even back then, so why five grand and why use Ed's money to pay it?" I ask.

She replies immediately, anger and frustration all over her face. "If you think five thousand a month was all Jake Black wanted for his silence you're a naive fool. That's just walking around money. And why not use Edward's money to pay it? Ultimately it was for him anyway. I was protecting him, just like you do. Without that money he'd have nothing. No career, no fame and definitely not the fortune he's got now."

The idea that she thought she was like me, that she was protecting him like I did, ate at me. It cut deep. Nothing else she'd said to me hurt like that did. I couldn't spend the time to argue that point with her. Not now. Not now that I was learning things that might help me protect my mark going forward.

"He was a victim," I say quietly, internally seething. "He was a victim that day just as much as Charlie Swan was. Why didn't you get him out of the trunk and just call 911?"

She tilts her head to the side and stares at me for a second and then she leans over the desk towards me. "Because I thought he might have done it himself."

I rear back then. Disgusted. Incensed. More angry than I'd ever been. "You think he shot his own man, threw him in the trunk, fired twice more and then crawled in there with him to watch him die?"

"Novel way to look like a victim," she shrugs.

"There isn't a violent or cruel bone in that kid's body," I snarl before I can stop myself.

She's grinning then, probably thinking she'd gotten under my skin. She had, but I reigned it in. "You didn't know him back then. All you see is who he is now. You know Edward Cullen, I knew Edward Masen."

"Bella Swan knew him back then," I counter easily. "Charlie Swan knew him too, and from what I've heard about that guy there's no way he would've let a psychopath anywhere near his kid."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. Edward was fucking Charlie's daughter. His _teenage _daughter. You don't think that would've caused a bit of tension between the bodyguard and his mark? Ed wouldn't be the first actor to take out his own man. They get so fucking caught up in their characters they start to believe they can do shit like that. They start to think they're untouchable, above the law."

So much about her statement was wrong. Ed didn't think he was untouchable at all. There was no way Ed could've, or would've, killed his bodyguard. He'd loved Charlie, I knew that, even though I'd never seen the two of them together. I also knew for a fact that Ed and Bella weren't sleeping together back then but I keep my mouth firmly shut about that. "Was the tension between Charlie and his mark, or between you and your client?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" she all but shouts back at me.

"Well, your client was just getting known. He'd just signed on for the second film. Making his mark in the business. I know how shit works here, Tanya. I don't believe for a second that Charlie Swan would've taken issue with a guy like Ed taking an interest in his daughter. But you..." I trail off, pointing at her, "You would've had a big issue with it. You needed him single. Eligible. He made more money for you from screaming little fangirls who needed to keep thinking they had a shot with your single client."

"That's how this business works," she smirks, not denying my claim but not lending it any credence either.

No matter. I knew the score. And she was right, it's how the business worked. He was worth more to her single than attached. How she'd gone about _keeping _him unattached was now the question I needed answered.

"How much did it cost you for Jake to date her?" I ask simply.

She doesn't even flinch at the question. "Double his retainer and a lump sum if he managed to actually get her to marry him. But then Charlie was killed and I saved myself a big check."

"You didn't count on him actually _wanting_ her for himself," I add.

"No accounting for taste," she hisses.

I'm done. I've heard enough. I don't want her opinions, just facts, and I think she's given me more than enough of those. I get to my feet. I tower over her across the desk.

"If you ever come near my mark, Isabella Swan, either of their homes or their work places ever again I'll kill you Tanya. I'll kill you, hide your body and make sure that if any of the pieces are ever found you won't be able to be identified," I say calmly.

"Do I need a lawyer?" she asks and I know then that she's scared. For herself. For the lies she's told for five years. For the lies she's been telling since that day five years ago. But she's still without an inch of remorse for the hell she'd helped create around Edward.

"You need a soul," I tell her as I slam the door behind me.

**EPOV**

"I want you to stay here," I tell my mother forcefully. "I want you both here, with me, where we can talk and because it's safe here for you."

"Are you sure?" she asks through teary eyes for the tenth time since we'd sat down at the kitchen table.

"I'm very sure," I tell her with a smile. "There's plenty of room here. In fact," I say, getting to my feet and lifting a set of keys from the hooks by the entryway, "there's a whole suite upstairs that nobody uses. I'd love it if you both did."

My father glances upwards and then shifts his gaze to my mother before getting to his feet. "Let's have a look then," he grins as he comes to stand by me.

"Mom?" I ask and she too gets to her feet. "We'll be right back," I tell the others gathered around the little table.

I unlock the door at the bottom of the stairs and lead them through it. We go up and at the top I unlock the door there too. I stand aside as they pass by me and know right away that they are going to stay up here. My mother's soft gasp of pleasure tells me that.

"Oh it's lovely," she says when I enter the suite. "Why aren't you living up here yourself?"

"I don't like being..." I trail off, embarrassed because of the reason.

"You don't like being this far away from Emmett, do you son?" my dad asks. I nod and he smiles a little before coming to me and putting his hand on my shoulder. "That's understandable. He's been a constant for you all these years and he's made you feel safe."

"I'm sorry," I tell them both.

"Nothing to be sorry for," my mother says brightly as she pulls the heavy drapes back and lets in the natural light. "And we'd love to stay here, wouldn't we Carlisle?"

"We would," he agrees.

"I'll have Kate clean it," I promise as we go back down the stairs.

"Kate's not coming for a bit," Jasper tells me as we go back into the kitchen. I mumble an 'oh' and take my seat next to Bella again at the table. "Emmett had me cancel her services for a bit, just until we get these threats under control. It's safer."

"Okay," I say. "Then I'll do it myself," I add. Jasper looks shocked, Alice a little too. Bella's expression gives me nothing. "What?" I ask the other two. "You think I don't know how to clean things? How to work a vacuum cleaner? How to push a mop?"

"And work the washer and dryer," my mother rightly points out proudly.

"Yeah," I chuckle, "I even know how to iron, don't I mom?"

"You sure do. I taught my boy well," she says, her chin lifted.

"Right then," Alice says with a thump to the table of her hand. "If that's all decided I'm going to take Carlisle into the office and get started on the arrangements."

"Arrangements?" my dad asks.

"Emmett thinks that Jake is going to out you to the press, just like he did Bella, and very soon," she says as she gets to her feet. "Plus Edward's right, it's safer for you to be here, but not just because of Jake. Once it's out that you're his parents, parents who've been absent for the past five years," she says holding her hand out so nobody interrupts like she knew we'd want to, "and I know and understand that that wasn't what any of you actually wanted, but that isn't what the press are going to care about.

"They'll harass you at every turn. Turn your lives upside down to get a comment. Stalk you and bait you to say something. So if it's decided that you are going to live here for a bit we need to close out your life outside of this house. Cancel your place at the RV park, close out accounts and pay out your debts so they won't be bought into question if anyone digs, and they will," she sneers.

"Oh dear," my mother sighs sadly.

"It's okay, mom," I tell her softly. "Let this happen, please? Emmett wouldn't have trusted Alice with this if she wasn't the absolute best person to do it and it is necessary. Very necessary. Please believe me. The press are parasites," I hiss.

She throws my dad a forlorn look and he returns it with his own. He shrugs, she shrugs back, it's decided with a simple look shared between them and then he's following behind Alice and going in to the office.

"Right, we're next," Seth says then as he too gets to his feet. "What's the deal, boss?" he asks Bella.

She reaches for my hand under the table and gives it a good, hearty squeeze before speaking. "I'm staying here, with Edward. I'll need some things from my house but I know I can't go there. I'll give you a list," she tells Seth who's grinning stupidly.

"Good deal," he tells her.

"I'll make the list then come help you clean up upstairs," she tells me before planting a lingering kiss right on my lips. In front of my parents!

"You'll need to make some arrangements at the restaurant," Seth reminds her.

"Oh, yeah, I guess I will. I'll be as quick as I can and then I'll come help," she says to me with a smile.

"Take your time, get it right," I tell her with a wink. I push to my feet and tuck my chair back under the table before I brave a look at my mother. "Oh stop it," I laugh when my eyes meet hers.

"What?" she says, blushing profusely and smiling at me in this really weird, spaced out kind of way.

"You know what," I laugh as I take her behind the kitchen counter and into the laundry room to gather the cleaning supplies.

"You love her," she says simply.

"I do," I answer without hesitation. "Is that a problem?" I ask, hoping it isn't.

"It never was," she whispers and I stare at her in shock. I'm about to ask what she means when she puts a hand on my forearm and stops me from moving into the laundry room properly. "Emmett told us she married after..." she trails off.

"After Charlie died," I say as confidently as I can. It's not difficult, I don't remember him and even though his name makes Bella shiver it does nothing to me. Yet. One day I hope it will. I don't welcome the pain necessarily but I want the chance to grieve for a man I know I loved even if I'm only told second hand that I did.

"Yes, after Charlie died," my mom echoes.

"And yes, she did marry. Jacob Black," I hiss knowing full well that his name would make my mother cringe. It does. "She says it was a mistake. She says she's left all that behind."

"Then I'm glad. For you both," she says as we start to move again. "Now, you get the vacuum cleaner and I'll take the rags and cleaners."

**Emmett POV**

"Where are we at?" I demand of Jasper the instant I'm back in the house and in my office.

He looks up from his screen and eyes me carefully. "It's coming along," he tells me as he shoves the keyboard aside. "What did you learn?"

"Later," I tell him firmly. He balks and looks as though he's about to argue but I shake my head just a little, but decisively, and he sits back in his seat to hear me out. "I learned quite a bit but nothing that's going to help us keep this lot safe going forward. Tell me where you're at and once this place is locked down I'll spill my guts about Tanya fucking Denali."

He nods then and I'm grateful. I can't talk about what I'd learned yet. I needed a little bit longer than the twenty minute car ride from her office back to the house to get straight in my head the evilness I'd been infected with via Tanya.

Losing myself in what I did best would help. For a little bit anyway.

"You got everything you need to make all this happen?" I ask, because I think he's got it all pretty much covered. He's done everything I'd have done myself.

"One more thing," he grins. "I need to see the bunker so I choose what size backup generator will fit in it."

I'm laughing then. Really laughing. The guy's good. Fucking brilliant actually and I needed the release of a good laugh after what I'd learned in Tanya's office. "You're a fucking genius," I tell him as I get to my feet. "Let me go check on everyone else and then I'll take you down there and tell you what an evil bitch Tanya really is."

"Good deal," he laughs too and gets back to tapping on his keyboard with vigour.

Two hours later Jasper had a good feel for the layout of the bunker under the library and had all the specs for the size generator he could order. He also had a head swimming with information about Tanya Denali and her association with Jake Black.

He was appalled, just like me, to have the suspicions confirmed.

We sat there, on the short sofa in the bleak bunker, and digested the news.

"You think she did it and she's lying about only cleaning it up?" he asks eventually.

"No," I say firmly. "She had no motive."

"Unless Charlie wanted the kid to break from her services," he counters.

"Ed had only made that one film and had only just signed on for the second. He was only just starting to make money at all. She didn't stand to lose enough to kill Charlie and I doubt Charlie would've had an issue with her as the kids agent. Back then she must have had the kids back if you look at all the work she tossed his way at the start. Even now, if you disregard the stealing, she has been keeping him in work."

"Yeah," Jasper laments. "What a..." he trails off.

"Yeah," I agree.

"The dreams..."

"All true by the sound of it. Charlie's blood. All over him. In his mouth, in his ears, just like he always said it was."

"Reliving it all the time," Jasper sighs.

"Yeah," I mutter. The idea that the kid had suffered, alone, in the trunk of his car with a dead body for so many hours on end made me feel sick and I could see that it made Jasper feel sick too. How to deal with the information was now the question. "What did Rosie say?" I ask.

"She's coming by on Wednesday afternoon. His usual time. Said it was no problem. She did make a point of asking if you'd be there though," he grins.

I ignore the jibe. I know he knows. He knows I know that he knows. "You serious about Alice?" I ask.

"As a heart attack," is his quick comeback.

"Yeah," I sigh. "But with Rosie I think it's more like a stroke," I chuckle before reaching for my beer.

"What's next?" he asks as he drains the last of his bottle.

"We wait him out," I tell him straight up.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


	18. Chapter 18

**BPOV**

Emmett and Jasper emerge from the library not exactly all smiles, but much happier than when they'd gone in. They'd been in there for a few hours and I'd been waiting to talk to them the whole time.

"I'm going to have to go to the restaurant tomorrow," I tell them as soon as they spot me in the living room.

"I'll handle it," Emmett tells Jasper, who keeps walking and heading towards the office. Emmett sits opposite me in the living room. "I can't tell you that you can't go to work," he starts slowly.

"I'll be careful," I promise.

"I know you will. But what I meant was, nobody can tell you what to do, but for right now, if it's at all possible, I can control this situation better, more safely, if you'd consider taking a leave of absence."

"Already arranged," I tell him proudly. "The temporary manager I used when we went to your place is happy to stay on a bit longer. I haven't given him an end date and he hasn't asked for one, so we're good for a bit longer. But I do need to go there tomorrow. I'm going to have to arrange for him to have the authority to pay the wages, to restock the bar and sit down with him to explain the ordering procedures."

He nods along as I speak and I can tell that my proactive approach has pleased him. "Then I'll work with Seth to make sure it's safe for you to go there tomorrow."

He stops there but I can tell he wants to say more. I wait, but he's silent. "What did she say?" I ask when I can't stand the not knowing any longer.

He sighs and sits back in the armchair a little more deeply. He looks pained so I try to steel myself for what he'd learned. "She doesn't know who killed your dad," he whispers. "She found him, and Ed, in the trunk of the car, but it was already done by the time she got there."

My hand flies to cover my mouth to contain the horrified sob I want to let out.

He doesn't give me a chance to ask anything else. "She called Jake to clean it up."

This time I let the sob out. "No," I whimper and he's beside me, on his knees, before the next sob escapes.

"I'm so sorry," he says quietly. "Be angry at that, but please don't jump to conclusions here about anything else," he begs as I cry. His hands go to my knees and he squeezes rhythmically as he speaks in a low voice. "He was there after the fact, that much I think we can believe from Tanya, but we don't know anything else for sure.

"So yes, if you've ever asked him if he knew anything, or asked him to find out in the capacity of him being a private investigator then its true that he lied to you for years about not knowing anything. But, perhaps he doesn't know anything else. It is possible that he only cleaned it up. From what I can gather Tanya got Ed out of the trunk and took him into the house to clean him up and then sat him at the kitchen table to wait. She called Jake who came to clean up the house so that by the time she'd taken Ed to her place and returned again no cop would be able to find any trace that Ed had even been at the house when your dad was killed.

"I can't think of any reason she'd lie about any of it now that I've threatened her, but I can't also tell you that's all she knows or all that Jake knows. I'm so sorry I don't know more yet."

I nod. It's all I can do. We sit quietly for a few minutes and when I've got myself under a little more control I give my eyes one last wipe and look at him. "Do you believe her?" I ask.

"I only asked her once before what she knew about that day and apart from her leaving out that she called Jake to the scene she told me the same thing, that she cleaned it up. I can't think of a reason why she'd cover for whoever did it."

"Yeah," I whisper.

"Someone needs to tell him he's not imagining the blood. He really was there. He really did see it. Feel it. Taste it," he whispers.

"I'll do it," I say, the words coming out of my mouth without thought.

"Think on it, you've got time to decide," he offers, knowing it had been a kneejerk reaction from me. "There's a lot we need to achieve here over the next few days, so maybe get your work sorted first and then we'll regroup and talk about telling him."

"Alright," I agree.

"Rose is coming tomorrow to talk with him as usual. I'll need to tell her what I learned. I'll leave it up to you to decide if you want to be a part of the session," he tells me as he gets to his feet.

"I'll think about it," I tell him and once he's gone from the room I run my finger over the mouse pad on my laptop and try to return my concentration to the screen.

It's not easy.

**EPOV**

My mother and I work upstairs for hours. The suite had been closed off for the better part of five years so it's pretty stale and dusty, but we get through it.

I haul new bedding and towels up the stairs while mom bats at the mattress with the end of a broom.

Bella helps for a little while but makes her apologies when she gets a call from the restaurant. Mom and I continue on, content with one another's company.

I rinse out the basin in the bathroom while mom cleans the last window.

Alice and ad call in now and again to report on their progress.

I bring bottled water and some things to make tea to stock the little fridge and the tiny sink in the little living room area while mom begins to hang hers and my dad's clothing in the wardrobes.

Emmett calls up the stairs to tell us there are sandwiches in the kitchen so I bring two plates of them with me on the back end of another trip from the RV with my parent's things.

By mid afternoon the rooms are sweet smelling, dust free and looking lived in. It feels good to achieve something. Mom's pleased, she can't stop smiling, and when dad and Alice finally arrive back dad is given the guided tour by mom. He's pleased too, and thankful, and hugs me hard before I leave them alone to settle in properly.

I find Bella in the living room, tapping rapidly into her laptop. "What cha doin'?" I ask as I flop down into a chair opposite.

"Getting the orders ready to send off for the week," she tells me without looking up from the screen.

"I worry about you going to work," I tell her up front.

"I'm going in tomorrow to prepare the temp and then I'm taking some time off," she says with a smile. "And thank you for worrying."

"My pleasure," I tell her with a smile of my own. "So, wanna come sit in the spare bedroom at the front of the house and watch some guys dig up my lawn?" I chuckle. She cocks her head to the side and asks what that means. I get to my feet and hold out a hand for her, "Welcome to operation 'Jake Black's an asshole'," I laugh as I guide her to the windows.

**BPOV**

Yep. There are guys digging up Edward's lawn. Four of them.

We sit, on the edge of the spare bed, and watching as they dig a long, thin trench and then lay down wire that comes off a giant spool on the back of a truck sitting in the drive.

"What's your guess?" he asks as the guys start to back fill the hole in sections after putting the cable in it.

"About what?"

"What's that cable do?" he asks, tossing a nod towards where we're watching.

I shrug, "Probably attached to some kind of alarm."

"Yeah," he says softly.

We watch and chat the whole time. About everything. About nothing. About my work. About his. About his parents, their giant RV that now sat around the back of his garage. About my house and how I was worried about Seth being there getting the things off my list.

We watch where beautiful stretches of lawn used to be and are now long, brown swathes of turned earth. We both agree that the grass will grow back and that the scars are necessary.

Before those guys are finished we watch as another truck arrives, and another, and then as six guys begin to drag ladders and toolboxes from the truck beds.

"What's your guess?" Edward asks me again as we make our way back to the living room to watch from there what these guys are going to do.

"Something on the roof?" I shrug as we watch those big ladders move by the living room windows.

The six guys split off into three teams of two each and used those ladders to get onto the roof of the house, the pool house and the shed at the back. Each group hoists a big box up there with them and within an hour they're done.

"What's your guess?" I ask him this time.

"There's already cameras everywhere so my guess is that those are motion sensors," he says, craning his neck to see the little, beige fittings that now adorn the lips of the gutters we could see from our vantage point.

We're still sitting in the living room when Jasper jogs into the foyer to let in two more men. These ones wear plain black, from head to toe, and are introduced to us as Jo and Bryon.

"Come outside for a bit," Jasper tells us with a nod of his head towards the french doors that open out onto the lawn by the pool area.

Alice, Carlisle and Esme join us there, as well as Emmett, so as a group we wait on the grass.

"Your turn to guess," Edward chuckles at my side while we're waiting.

I think on it a second before answering. "If it's yoga I'm wearing the wrong pants," I giggle.

"If its yoga I'm crying off lame," he says, nudging me with his shoulder so I can turn to watch him practise his limp.

A few seconds later Jo and Byron join us. They each have a leash wrapped around their wrist and a German Shepherd at the end of each one.

Bubbles – yes, one of the killer attack dogs is named Bubbles – and Caligula (much more appropriate to my thinking) are sweet as they nudge and lick, sniff and paw at us.

We are told to stand very still while the dogs make our acquaintance and despite their placidity during the ordeal I know that the instant their handlers give the command the two panting, playful puppy's will turn into man eating machines.

We are all told not to pet them if they are on duty and never to feed them. Ever. Even treats as this would mess with their training.

We are only back inside for a little while when Jasper races to the front door once again.

"I hope it's a pizza delivery," Edward whispers conspiratorially with a wink.

"With all this security maybe we should be expecting a gruel delivery," I chuckle.

A minute later we are all introduced to John and Steve, the two new front gate guards. They were going to be on duty day and night, in six hour rotations, for the foreseeable future. Emmett is careful to tell us all that nobody will be allowed onto or out of the property without permission from one of the three bodyguards on the premises, so not to bother trying it.

He makes sure to tell us that we can come and go as we please within reason, that we aren't captives, but to be mindful that if we did leave arrangements for our safety would have to be made prior to leaving, and returning, and therefore a little notice would be needed.

When a contractor arrives to install a small, steel guardhouse by the front gate things began to feel a little more tense for me. A little more real and a little more prison-like too. The addition of a crew to install razor wire cranks my anxiety up another notch.

**Emmett POV**

I'd watched them on the monitors as the yard had been dug up for the trip wires. They'd seemed interested but not concerned as they'd chatted on the end of the spare bed.

The monitors in the living room showed me the two of them with rubber necks as the next crew had installed the motion detectors. Again they'd been interested but hadn't looked or sounded worried.

I kept a keen, but not overly obvious eye on them in the yard before the dogs had been brought around. They'd been laughing and joking, sharing little private looks and had been in good spirits.

They'd both, all, listened intently as I explained about the new security measures that meant they'd have to give me a little time to arrange for them to leave the grounds and once again both Bella and Ed had seemed to take it all in stride. It had been confronting, and I hadn't pulled any punches with regard to how seriously I was taking their personal safety, but they'd concentrated when needed and agreed when I needed them to as well.

I'd made sure to find them on the monitors in the office as the gatehouse was installed and sure enough I could see the telltale signs of their prior good spirits dim, just slightly, as they came to understand the gravity of their situation and mine.

Some of their levity had returned by the time we all met in the kitchen to prepare dinner. Esme, Bella and Alice were on salad chopping duty. Their conversation kept moving along at a steady pace but Bella simply wasn't participating as much as I thought she normally would in other circumstances.

Jasper and I were in charge of grilling steaks. Carlisle volunteered himself and his son to make the sweets and Seth was flitting around fetching and carrying whatever anyone needed.

Of the men Edward was the most obviously detached from the laughter and ribbing that went on. He smiled, and he did join in some of the conversation, but he too was a little subdued compared to what I'd seen of him through the day.

That aside I found myself thinking that _this_ is what this house had always lacked. It had been far too quiet for far too long.

I should have checked myself for the errant thought for just as it passed through my mind the bell at the gate chimed. I left Jasper in charge of the meat and let in the guy from SafeGuard Armor.

I bring him into the house and settle him, and his box of samples, into the living room while I go back to the kitchen.

"Bella, Ed, I need you in the other room for a moment," I tell them, giving Seth a slight chin lift to let him know I'd need him too.

Our marks meet us in the hall and I quickly, and quietly, inform them that they are about to be fitted for bulletproof vests. I do it this way so that neither of them can balk, or argue, or tell me to go fuck myself. At least not until after the guy's gone that is. After that I'm guessing all bets were going to be off.

**Edward POV**

I'm freaked. Bella's very obviously freaked. Emmett's as cool as a cucumber. Seth's trying to be.

I do my best to keep it together with the guy poking and prodding me, having me turn left, then right, more prodding, turn left again. When he's done with me he starts on Bella and by the time he announces that he's satisfied with the fit and hands Emmett an invoice Bella is close to tears and I'm only just, _just_ holding on to reality.

I feel hot all over. My neck is aching, my eyes are stinging and there's a metallic, coppery taste in my mouth.

"Hold on for me, Ed," Emmett tells me fiercely before he shows the guy out of the room and hopefully out of my house.

I sit in an armchair and close my eyes, willing the nausea to go away. Bella's got tears threatening to fall and when Em comes back into the living room he pulls Seth aside and whispers furiously to him. It'll be a tag team effort now.

Em will stick with me, Seth with Bella. They'll separate us, drag us apart while Emmett begs me to 'stay with him'. Seth will occupy Bella, attempt to calm her, and I'll wake up tomorrow morning with a migraine that would kill a bull and a sad Bella at my side.

I don't want that. I don't want to switch. I'd listened and understood when Emmett had told me about the warning signs. I knew what I was feeling now. I know what's coming if I give in to it.

I swallow as deeply as I can, drag in as much oxygen as possible and keep my eyes open as our bodyguards approach us.

"Come on," Emmett tells me as he reaches for me under the arms, probably to get me to my feet so he can whisk me off to the privacy of my bedroom before I meltdown completely and turn into an asshole who thinks he's a spy.

"No," I say as directly as I can. He's shocked, its written all over his face, but he backs off. I sit back down in the armchair and drag in some more air. When I've gathered myself a little I stare up at him for a few seconds more before I'm confident I can speak without puking. "I won't switch," I say defiantly. I want it to sound triumphant but I'm not a hundred percent sure I can pull it off just yet. "Leave her alone," I tell Seth who also looks shocked.

Bella, having already been pulled to her feet by her bodyguard, looks at me questioningly. I motion to my lap and she comes to me right away. She's on my thighs, her head tucked up under my chin, one hand on my hip, the other rubbing the pad of skin by my thumb, within seconds. I wrap my other arm around her and breathe deeply against her hair before I look back up at the hovering Emmett, and then to Seth.

"Enough," I tell them collectively. "It's enough. For today. Enough," I tell them with as much force and determination in my voice as I can muster.

"It's necessary," Emmett begins to tell me but I don't care.

"No," I say firmly. "I mean it. That's enough for today. If you think its necessary I won't argue, but I don't want any more today. Tomorrow sure. I can't handle any more today."

"Okay," he says, his palms raised in what looks like surrender.

Bella's not said a word throughout. She's still rubbing on me and its soothing, calming. I kiss the top of her head and then raise my eyes back to Emmett's. "We've done everything you've asked of us, right from the start. And we'll keep doing as we're told, but you need to leave us alone for a bit right now."

"Okay," he says again, though more quietly this time. He looks defeated, perhaps a little distraught. "I'm sorry about all this. I'm doing my best," he tells me with a firm nod of his head before cuffing Seth on his shoulder and leading him out of the room.

I feel bad then. He's doing all this to keep _me_ safe and I'd just thrown his efforts in his face. "Shit," I mutter.

"You should go to him," Bella whispers against my throat.

"I didn't mean it the way it sounded," I say against the crown of her head.

"I know. But thank you. It was a little bit too much for one day for me too."

I kiss the top of her head once more and she shifts out of my lap, holding a hand out for me as I get to my feet as well. I'm unsteady for a few seconds so I concentrate on keeping my eyes open and breathing deeply.

"Do you want to come too?" I ask when I'm ready; giving her the option even though it had been me who'd done the talking.

"Go," she says with a soft smile. "I'll go help finish up with dinner."

I thank her and then go in search of my bodyguard. He's not in the office and he's not in the kitchen when I go by it. Seth is and I watch Bella go right to him. They speak quietly for just a few seconds and then Seth nods firmly. She smiles, he smiles back and then they go back to helping prepare the meal. I go down the hall and find Em sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," I tell him straight up as I enter the room. I stand by the door, leaning my ass against it. "I'm starting to understand just how hard this has all been for you all these years and I'm sorry. Really sorry."

"You don't have to be, it's my job," he says, but it's muffled by his hands which he's kept over his face.

"But I am. I appreciate all that you're doing and I didn't mean to sound as though I'm an ungrateful kid."

He snorts a little and then raises red rimmed eyes to me. He hasn't been crying but he does look tired, exhausted really. "You're changing," he grins.

"I hope so," I grin back.

"You nearly switched back there," he says, throwing a nod towards the direction of the living room.

"Yeah," I shrug. "I could feel it coming on."

"You fought it though."

"It was hard," I shrug again.

"It's amazing," he smiles. "And I know that we pushed you too far today. I just wanted...no, that's not right. We, all of us, we just want you as safe as possible as quickly as possible. I should've worked harder to make a lot of what went on here today invisible for you. I'm sorry I didn't do that."

"No, I was wrong," I concede as I go towards him, hand outstretched. He takes it quickly and firmly and we shake. "Give us tonight?" I ask and he nods. I smile at him as widely as I can. "I'm an only child, as you know, but I consider you my brother," I tell him as firmly as I can without choking up. "You've done a hell of a job, under some really shitty circumstances, keeping me safe. And for that I will be eternally grateful, Em."

"Aw shit, Ed," he sniffs. "I appreciate the hell out of you saying that."

We make to leave his room but before we step out into the hall I call him back. "Tomorrow, how much more?" I ask abruptly.

He cocks his head to the side before nodding that he understands the question. "We're sending the Mercedes to have bulletproof glass fitted and steel plating welded to its underside tomorrow morning and there'll be a guy here who's coming to install a jamming device for the phones and internet."

"What else?"

"A backup generator will be coming at some point too, but maybe not for a week or so, it's on order," he says.

"That's it?" I ask as I step out of the room.

"That's it," he confirms as he joins me on the walk back towards the others. "Now, let's go get something to eat before Seth and Jasper eat all the good stuff."

**Bella POV**

The meal isn't quiet. The house isn't quiet. And it's wonderful.

Carlisle and Esme add a sense of occasion to the meal, the first they are sharing with their son in his home. And the first they are sharing with him in their new home, even if it turned out to be temporary. Nothing had been decided long term, just for while the threat is looming over our heads.

I feel its weight despite the laughter at the dinner table.

Alice has a quick wit. Jasper, though naturally a little quieter, has a wicked sense of humour that he lets us see during the meal. Emmett laughs and smiles more than I'd seen him do since meeting him and Edward...my Edward...is almost as I remembered him from before.

He laughs, jokes, and joins in. He includes me in the conversation and draws his parents into his life with a kind of ease that had been missing from him in the past weeks.

He and Emmett, Seth too in places, tell stories about their travels to and from movie sets and promotional dates. They regale us with Hollywood gossip and even some of the tricks of the trade that the general public likely would never know about.

Jasper tells us about a couple of his previous marks and their escapades and Alice tells us about some of the 'special' work she'd done over the years since the internet's inception. She is a freelancer, not tied to anyone or any one company, and she's done some pretty amazing things whilst on commission.

Over dessert we talk about my job and about the restaurant I love. I get to tell them all about how it all came to be and about the police men and women who come to eat there still and who have become almost like family to me over the years.

Esme and I make coffee and bring it back to the dining room while Emmett and Seth clear the dessert plates and it's then that the mood turns a little more sombre.

It had been a long day, for everyone, and it had been filled with tension and anxiety for everyone too, though for different reasons. Dinner had been nice but now the moody was shifting.

The conversation remains on lighter topics but underlying it all is a sense that after tonight things are going to get serious. Again.

More work is going to be carried out at the house. I am heading to the restaurant before an extended leave that will see me inside the house for the duration and Edward would be stuck in it with me. Carlisle and Esme weren't going to be able to return to their normal lives anytime soon and as for Alice...well I wasn't even sure what her normal life was like.

I sipped my coffee and watched and listened to the others talk.

My head was filled with thoughts on what had already happened and what might happen next so I didn't notice when the others left. Edward's soft calling of my name brought me back to the present and his concerned, worried eyes met mine.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his hand on my knee.

"Yeah," I sigh as I set my cup back onto the table. "Where did everyone go?"

His smile is small but beautiful. "You zoned out and they thought it best to give us a little space for the night. They've all gone to bed, love."

Hearing the endearment slip so easily from his lips makes my belly do flip flops. "Sorry for zoning out."

"Don't be," he tells me as he reaches for my cup and with his free hand for me. "Come on. They've all scattered like cockroaches. Let's head to our room."

I give him my hand gratefully. He rinses my cup and sets it in the rack in the dishwasher and then tugs on my hand as he leads me to the end of the hallway. To our room. Ours.

With a soft click the door closes behind us and suddenly I'm nervous. I'd wanted this, to be with him here, for so long that now that it is a reality I don't quite know how to behave.

"It feels strange, doesn't it?" he asks as he stands by the dresser and slips out of his socks and undoes the buttons on his shirt.

I look at him a moment. Really look. "It does," I agree with a short nod.

"I know why it does for me. Why does it for you?" he asks as he slips his shirt over his shoulders and lays it over the chair by the window.

"Because you said this is our room," I whisper as I cross the room towards the same chair.

"And before it was my room and you felt like a visitor," he states simply as he undoes the button and then the zipper on his jeans.

I lay my own shirt over his on the back of the chair and reach to remove my shoes and socks. "Yes. Why does it feel strange for you?" I ask as I turn to watch him push his pants over his hips and down his legs.

"Because we're going to climb into that bed of our own free will this time," he says quietly as he moves towards the bathroom. "The times we've shared this space have started with me switching or being sick and you being here to care for me. At Emmett's we were thrown together, it wasn't a choice. This time you're here because you want to be," he tells me as he turns the light on in the bathroom and disappears from my line of sight.

"I wanted to be here every time," I say, a little more loudly so that he can hear me.

"I always hoped so," he says before I hear the tap running into the basin.

I take off my jeans and put them with our other clothes. I look at them there, rumpled and crumpled from the day, and can't help but smile. It's as though they belong there, together.

I make my way to the bathroom door and watch while he brushes his teeth and rinses with mouthwash before washing his hands. "I've always wanted to be here. With you," I tell him as he moves by me in the doorway.

He looks at me a second longer than I think is necessary and just when I think he's not going to respond he does and it makes my heart race. "Once I've remembered everything I know I'll be able to tell you this with absolute honesty, but for now it's a guess and for that I'm sorry. But I've always wanted you to be here. With me."

My eyes mist over and all I can do is nod in reply as I stare at him through the reflection of the mirror above the sink. He nods firmly just once, throws another over his shoulder back toward the bedroom, and then he's gone.

I do my business quickly. I spend no extra time thinking over what I want to say or do when I step back into the bedroom. I don't allow myself the luxury of doubt or worry. I shove the tension and anxiety of what we're facing aside and walk as confidently as I can, in only a pair of panties and a bra, to _my_ side of the bed.

He's in it already. Under the covers already. I'd seen his boxer shorts on the floor on his side as I'd gone by. I set my watch on the nightstand, turn on the lamp and then take off what's left of my clothing. I watch him as he watches me. His eyes don't leave mine. Not even to look at my breasts. His eyes stay on mine as I slip between the cool, crisp sheets. His arms wrap around me as I move towards him. His legs tangle with mine as we get closer. His eyes are wide and clear. His breathing catches and I brace for what he's about to say.

**Edward POV**

Seeing the thoughtful look on her face, the way her eyes are clouded and her lips set in anticipation I wonder, for the first time tonight, if what I am about to say and do is the right thing. At the right time. In the right way.

"I love you," I tell her gently as I cup her cheek with my palm. "I love you now and I think I loved you before. I managed to stop the switch tonight and I think that's because of you. You make me want to get better. You make me strong, strong enough to try and stop myself switching. It's you, Bella. It's all you. Everything is you."

She gives me a gentle smile and kisses my palm. "It's not me, but thank you. And you are strong, even without me. No, you are," she tells me quite fiercely when I begin to protest. "I can't _make_ you get better. Nobody can. We've all tried. Hell, Emmett's been trying for years. Rose too. You have to do it yourself. So it's all you."

I shrug as best I can in the position I'm in, lying beside her. "I'm not doing this right," I huff as I shift further over onto my shoulder so we're truly eye to eye. "I wanted tonight to be...I mean, I had it in my head... I wanted us to...I'm not doing it right," I sigh, closing my eyes tightly.

Her soft lips against mine startle me and I flinch away. Her hand is on my cheek then and her eyes are clear and bright when I mine open. "Tonight will be amazing," she whispers before her tongue swipes across my bottom lip. "I had it set out in my head as well," she tells me quietly before kissing me again. "It feels as though everything's changing, doesn't it?" she asks when next we part.

"It does," I agree before shifting onto my elbows and nudging her onto her back, using my lips as the anchor between us. "More work will be done here tomorrow. You'll go to the restaurant to give instructions to your replacement. My parents are here and not leaving. Alice is here too. It feels as though something big is coming."

She lifts slightly off the pillow, her hand snaking around my neck as she pulls my lips back to hers. The kiss is slow and languid and over far too soon. "Something big _is_ coming," she tells me seriously. "They'll find Jake and they'll stop him. That's what's coming."

"And I still won't remember," I sigh above her.

"Does it matter?" she asks right away and I can't help but stare down at her incredulously. "I'm serious," she says, that fierce look back on her face. "You love me now. I love you now. You're parents are back in your life. You'll be healthy and safe. Fuck, Edward," she all but shouts as she clamours out from beneath me, shoving me so that I fall onto my back. She's on me then. Her legs on either side of my hips, her breasts swaying as she settles herself there. "You're rich, famous, the hottest thing on two legs I've ever seen and so what if you don't ever remember anything? You've got a whole life left to live. You're here. I'm here. I'm in love with you and I've waited what feels like a lifetime to tell you that and have you believe it."

"I do believe it," I protest.

"Oh I know you do," she huffs with a thump to my chest. "Shit, this has gone so wrong."

I can't help but chuckle. I set my hands to her hips and smile up at her. "And this is why I wanted it to be tonight," I tell her earnestly.

"Why? Because we're both so fucked up? Because this whole situation is so fucked up? Hardly the ideal time to do this," she grimaces.

I smile up at her and nod my head. "Yes. That's exactly why I wanted it to be now. Here. Because our situation is fucked up. It's scary and nobody knows how it's going to end. Might be good. Might be better than good. But it might also be terrible, horrible, more terrifying than whatever I went through that day that left me like this," I pretty much shout back up at her.

She stares down at me, her brow creased as I speak.

"Oh don't cry, darling," I tell her as a tear leaks out of the corner of her eye and settles on her cheek. I wipe at it with my thumb and then run it over her bottom lip. "What I'm trying to say is, and remember this is all without a script," I chuckle, "I love you and I want to be with you tonight. Not because I'm afraid of what tomorrow might bring but because we both deserve it. Being together. We both deserve a little, tiny piece of happiness and all of my happiness is tied up with you."

She sniffs and swipes at her eyes and then she looks down at me again. She smiles and then turns her head, first to the right and then to the left before focusing back on me beneath her. "There's no director here and I know you had no script, but you need to know that you couldn't have delivered that line any better, or said it more perfectly, if you'd had Spielberg in the room with us."

I push upwards and have her on her back underneath me in a heartbeat. She's laughing, her eyes sparkling at her little joke and she's beautiful. Stunning. I tell her so and then kiss her long and slow.

"It's not a line," I tell her as I kiss away from her mouth, making the trek from her jaw line down and over her throat and then across to her collarbone.

"I know," she whispers as she threads her fingers into my hair.

I don't reply. I can't. I won't. Not now that she's beneath me naked and I have acres of her creamy, soft skin to explore. And explore it I do. I kiss her everywhere. The tops of her shoulders. Down the soft, smooth skin of her arms. The indents at her wrists. Her fingers. The underside of each breast. Between them and then finally, finally, I have a peaked nipple between my lips.

She's writhing and bucking her hips up to me and saying my name over and over as I lick and suck the sweet, pale pink bud into my mouth.

I'm braced on my elbows, a breast in each hand and resting between her parted thighs. Letting the supple weight of her fall I run my now free hand down her side until I'm squeezing her hip in time with her pelvis that keeps up a steady rhythm against me. I kiss the other nipple and then nip and tease beneath it, above it, either side of it until she's begging me for more.

It's something that's fallen from her lips before. I'd been nervous before but now, tonight, I'm not. I want this. I want her. I want us together and I know what the 'more' is that she's asking for.

I roll a little to my left and move upwards so that my lips are once again against hers. I'm now braced at her side, one hand free, and as I cup her sex with my palm I capture her moan with my lips. Her nails are in my shoulder and the pleasure of her pulling me, begging me with her fingers to get even closer makes me groan into her waiting mouth.

She's wet and warm. Swollen. My thumb finds the apex of her lips and I begin to rub slowly. Her nails dig in a little harder, her hips buck upwards a little higher, her teeth rake across my tongue as she keens into my waiting mouth.

It's not enough for her and I know it before she tears her mouth away from mine and tells me so herself. My fingertips spread her lips and as I slide one inside she arches her back and I drown in her eyes as she moans.

"Come for me this way first," I beg, knowing I would never last long enough to get her there once I was inside her. I add another finger and go deeper, twisting my wrist. "So beautiful," I tell her as her walls begin to spasm. "So beautiful. I love you. I love you," I say against her lips as she comes on my hand.

She comes back to me slowly. Her breathing is ragged and her fingernails have come away from the flesh of my shoulder as she returns to the surface. Her eyes flutter open; her tongue peeks out to wet her lips. The hand at the base of my neck tugs pushes and pulls and then she glides her other hand down over my chest, across my hip until she's gripping my ass in the palm of her hand.

Again she pushes and pulls until I'm seated between her thighs. She cranes her neck and lifts off the pillow to capture my lips with hers. Her fingers are now digging into my hips and she's moaning, groaning and whimpering into my mouth as our tongues meet to dance in the middle.

I'm poised at her entrance and I'm breathing hard. I'm losing myself, my self control, so I slow the kiss, retreat with my tongue and take a second to calm the both of us down. I don't want to hurry, I want to savour.

"Shhh," I whisper into her ear as I kiss my way down her throat. "Slow down," I beg.

She quiets for a little bit. Letting me slow us down so that we are kissing more softly, less urgently, though the fire in my gut and the ache in my balls keeps reminding me what I want.

I kiss her breast again and then her throat. The lobe of her ear. Whispering that I love her. Making sure she knows, making sure she's sure about this.

She calms a little, letting me run my lips and tongue all over her upper body. I'm learning her curves. Delving into the creases by her breasts, dipping into the hollow at the base of her throat. When I take a nipple back into my mouth she keens and bucks. She's quickly back where she'd been moments ago.

Begging me with her voice. Telling me she needs me. That she's waited for me her whole life. That she's burning for me. That she's always loved me. That she wants me.

I get swept up in her need, and my own. I forget that I need to go slowly. I ignore the warning my body is giving me to take my time, to breathe deeply, to concentrate and to remember that for the past five years I've not been mentally well.

The more she begs the more I want to give her what she tells me she needs.

Within seconds I'm right there with her. Desperate to be inside her. Frantic to fill her and to have my fill of her.

She's forgotten I need this to be slow and I don't want to disappoint her.

I shift my hips quickly but it's barely a movement at all. I feel the warmth and the slick heat of her and so I try to ignore the churning thoughts in my brain and move just a little bit more. She tells me she's ready, that she wants me and wants this, and then I slide home.

It's not easy although she's wet for me. It's not simple because I'm out of control.

But it feels like _everything_. It's consuming. Powerful. Overwhelming. Frightening.

I haven't moved and she's still too. Lying beneath me, her breath at my ear and her hands on my body but she's finally giving me a moment to pull myself together. I try hard. For her.

"Move," she whispers softly. I shake my head, unable to speak. "It's okay," she tells me and begins to caress my hips and back with gentle, feather soft fingertips. "It's okay, it's just me," she whispers.

All at once I am overcome with doubt. Doubt about this being right. About not knowing if this is the first time I've ever loved anyone like this. Whether or not I should be. If it's cheating her because I'm an emotional mess right now. Considering if this is the right thing to do when I don't remember her properly. Wondering if we should've waited a little longer to get out from under the threat facing us.

"Hey," she whispers, "its okay. I'm okay. You're okay. I want this, truly."

"I'm..." I trail off. "I can't," I tell her. I'm so lost right then. Too many thoughts are crowding my mind. I have too little control to allow my body to do what it should know how to do instinctually.

I blink rapidly, trying to rein in the errant thoughts but it's no good. They're too strong, coming too quickly and I can't ignore them.

I feel hot. Overwhelmed. Scared.

Her palms are on my cheeks then. Her lips at the corner of my mouth. She's speaking but I don't hear, can't understand. There's a silver shadowy haze in front of my eyes and a ringing in my ears. One elbow gives way and I fall on her, making her squeak.

I lose my erection and I feel defeated, embarrassed, and afraid.

She doesn't even need to shift before I slip out of her. She squeaks again and shifts beneath me. I'm defeated. A failure. I fall forwards onto the bed where she'd been laying a few seconds ago. The pillow smells of her. The sheets are warm where she'd been.

"It's okay," she croons by my ear and I feel her warm hands run from the base of my burning neck to the base of my spine and back again as she whispers. "It's okay. You're okay."

"It's not okay," I moan as I attempt to claw my way out of the panic I'm feeling.

"It is," she insists. "You're okay. I went too fast. I'm so sorry," she tells me, still rubbing. "I pushed you too quickly. I wanted you too much."

I lay like that for a few more minutes, her hands soothing me along with her gentle, understanding words. The ache in my neck has subsided and my vision has cleared when I roll onto my back so I can look up at her.

I expect disappointment to be all over her face but it's not. Just love and understanding and worry. For me.

"I'm sorry," I tell her earnestly and it makes her smile.

"I'm not," she grins. "You were inside me and it felt...you felt...you felt like everything..." she whispers, her eyes closed.

"I panicked," I admit as I throw an arm over my eyes.

"I thought you might," she tells me as she begins to stroke my shoulder, my arm, down my throat and chest. "I knew our first time together would be emotional and overwhelming. It was for me too."

"It doesn't count," I mumble.

"It does," she giggles, playfully slapping me on the chest. "You were inside me, it counts."

"My brain wouldn't switch off," I admit sadly.

"I figured," she whispers right before I feel her lips on mine.

"I'm too broken," I whimper when her lips leave mine.

"You're not," she says fiercely. "I pushed you too far too quickly. We'll slow down. We'll talk to each other as we go."

That she wants to try again astounds me. I'm so shocked I uncover my face and sit up on my elbows. "Why would you want to try again? It's obvious I can't satisfy you that way."

She smiles before she answers. "An orgasm isn't the satisfying part of being together. It's great, don't get me wrong," she smiles, "but it's not the most important part. I love you. I want to make you happy. The satisfying part is knowing we're together, that you love me back and that you want me. If it never works for us, an orgasm from you being inside me, then that's how it'll be. I know I can make you come with my hands and one day I'll do it with my mouth too. You know you can make me come with your fingers and one day you'll do it with your mouth, I hope," she giggles.

The thought of her mouth on me, of mine on her, revives my flagging erection instantly. Hearing her say that completion inside her isn't important because we love one another gives me courage and best of all it gives me hope.

"Do you mean that?" I ask as I reach for her and bring her lips to mine.

"Oh yeah," she whispers against my lips. "I _do_ hope you'll make me come with your mouth one day," she giggles.

I bite her lower lip gently in reproach. "Not what I meant," I chuckle. It feels good to laugh. I feel lighter.

"I know what you meant and yes, I mean it. I love you. I always have. Being together is all I've ever wanted."

I pull her down to me then. Relieved and a little, no seriously impressed. I felt ashamed and embarrassed at having let her down but hearing her say that it didn't matter gave me a little quiet confidence. Especially since my cock was now standing at full mast again.

**BPOV**

My heart was hammering in my chest. His kiss was searing, sure, but I needed a moment to lose myself in it before I could let go of the anxiety I was feeling.

I thought I'd been prepared for him not to be able to make love to me. Rosalie had talked me through it, how to handle it, how to comfort him and how to behave in a way that would reassure him. She'd been fabulous on the phone and she'd been right.

He'd panicked. Gotten lost in his thoughts. Hadn't been able to let go of his anxiety. And I felt awful for having pushed him. I'd lost control of my desire and had asked too much of him too quickly. And we'd been almost silent. A big no-no.

Talking to him, calming him and using words that would restore his confidence had let him know that it was okay to feel overwhelmed and had been the absolute right way to handle his panic attack. Rose's advice had been correct and valuable and I'd be sure to remember it each time from now on.

That he'd had a panic attack at all broke my heart, but being prepared for it felt like a win for me.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue forcing its way back into my mouth and I welcomed it eagerly. He was hard again, his erection pressing against my hip as I leaned across his chest while we kissed.

I snake my hand down his chest, over his abs and circle his cock with my fist. His deep groan into my mouth makes me smile against his lips. We could do this. I knew we could. We just had to take it slowly the first few times so his brain didn't have a chance to race away from him.

I stroke him carefully once, twice and a third time before cupping his balls in the palm of my hand. I withdraw from the kiss carefully and trail my lips across his cheek and to his ear. "Does that feel nice?" I ask before swiping my tongue across the lobe. His guttural 'yes' makes me shiver.

I fist him again, a little tighter this time, and make longer strokes. I twist the ring of my fingers at his crown and moan into his ear when his hips buck upwards. "Touch me," I beg at his ear, trying to keep his attention. He cups my one exposed breast, the other is tucked at his side as I lean over him. He's gentle as his fingers caress me but it's not enough. "Pinch a little," I instruct and at the height of his hips bucking he rubs my peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Yesss," I moan into his ear.

I do my best to recall the advice Rose has given me and before he's close to coming I let him go and throw my leg over him and settle myself on his thighs. "Look at me," I beg and wait as patiently as I can until his eyes are on mine. "I love you. I truly do. And I know that I can make you feel good in other ways, but I want to try again and I want you to keep your eyes on me. Can you do that?" I ask.

I see the fear on his beautiful face so I lean down and kiss him gently. I don't want him to over think. I don't want him to sink into panic and I don't want him thinking about the failed attempt earlier either. So I press myself harder to him, my breasts crushed against his chest. I slide backwards, inching slowly as we kiss. When I feel him there I press back a little further and gentle the kiss. "Keep your eyes open. Put your hands on my hips. Guide me," I tell him before kissing him again.

His touch is light. His fingers barely gripping me such is his fear. He's not going to be able to do much of anything and when I realise that I abandon the thought of lying on him as we connect.

I sit up, arching my back so that I can look down at him. "Look at me," I tell him as I replace his hands on my hips for him. I press my own fingers into his until his grip tightens. "Look at me," I tell him again as his eyes begin to wander to my breasts.

He's still hard, I can feel him pressing against my ass, but I need him to concentrate so he doesn't get lost in his head again. I reach behind me, standing him up, and then I lift myself using my knees until I have him in hand and position. "Watch my face," I tell him as I slowly sink down onto his length. I fight the urge to throw my head back, and break the eye contact, when I've taken all of him inside me. "So good," I tell him. "So deep. So good," I moan as his fingers begin to dig into my flesh.

"Keep talking," he gasps unevenly.

I want to sigh in relief. He's with me. He's trying. I haven't gone too far. I haven't hurt him by insisting we try again.

"I'm going to move now. You keep looking right here," I tell him, tilting my chin so he'll know I mean my eyes. I rise, just the tiniest bit and as I sink back down I let out a long, low moan. "You feel so good. Perfect. Do you love me?" I ask as I rise and fall again.

"So much," he pants before squeezing his eyes shut.

"No," I shout. "You look at me. Don't think. Just feel. Just look at me," I bark as I rise and fall again, more quickly. He opens his eyes and I grin down at him. "Guide me. Push me. Pull me. Love me."

He's hesitant. Still fragile. Trying hard to keep eye contact with me but after another rise and fall he moves. Just his hands. But they do move. They grip me tighter and he begins to do as I've asked. He's helping me. Using my hips to pull me higher off him and shoving me down harder onto him now.

"Yes. Just like that," I moan. Again I'm fighting the urge to throw my head back and lose myself in the feeling of being so full. It's hard to stay locked in his gaze when all I want to do is throw myself at him. "Keep going," I urge when he starts to slow, his hands loosening. "Tell me you love me," I beg when his eyes start to wander again.

"I do," he grunts as he forces his hips upwards, impaling me so deeply I scream. "I do love you. I do," he croaks before swallowing hard.

I feel his knees come up and know that he's planting his feet on the mattress for leverage. I brace my wrists against his forearms and dig my toes in beside his hips as I bounce on his cock. I watch his face and can see the exact moment, the precise second his brain sets him free of all his worry and concern.

"So fucking beautiful," he mumbles.

He bucks upwards hard and fast and I start to let myself relax and just enjoy the feeling. Just as quickly he stops all movement and I'm left flailing, desperately trying to recreate the full feeling I'd had seconds before.

I start to panic that he's lost his concentration again but before I can tell him to look at me he throws his shoulders sideways, tossing me onto my back beside where he'd just been laying. He's still inside me. Still hard as a rock. He's still panting and now he's thrusting into me wildly.

"So fucking beautiful," he grunts against my throat as he finds a rhythm. "So good. So perfect. So fucking wet," he growls against my neck.

I'm clutching at his shoulders and then at his back. My legs are hooked around the backs of his thighs, holding him into me as hard as I can so he can go as deep as he can. He's licking at my throat. Wet, uncoordinated kisses.

His hands are in my hair either side of my face. His breath is hot at my ear. I'm moaning beneath him, clawing at him, desperate to feel the ecstasy I know he can give me. "Harder," I beg through dry lips.

"Yessss," he hisses as he lifts his chest off mine and slides an arm beneath me, lifting my hips to his. "Yes deeper," he shouts as he returns to the punishing pace he'd set before.

He's tilted my hips higher himself, my pelvis angled just right and he's hitting that spot inside me that makes me see stars. "There," I tell him. "There. Don't stop," I beg as I fight to maintain the exact position while he pistons into me faster.

"There?" he's asking and I'm nodding frantically. "You need me there," he says, though it's not a question.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the first signs of my impending climax begin. "Close," I warn him as my stomach clenches and my sex begins to spasm.

"Come for me," he demands.

It's a useless insistence. I need no coaxing. Not now that he's going so deeply, so perfectly.

"Come for me," he demands again. "Let go for me. I'm loving you. It's me. Loving you. Come for me," he grunts and I'm lost.

Done for. Shattering into a billion pieces for him. Only for him. Only ever for him. Light explodes behind my eyelids. I start to shake with the force of it. It lasts and lasts and lasts and he's still thrusting. Still going just as deeply. Still going back to that same spot inside me. Pounding into me and I feel it build again before the last is done.

He's shouting. I'm calling his name, I think. His rhythm falters. His movements are jerky, uncoordinated. I'm falling again and shouting for him. Clutching at him. Holding my hips upwards, desperately, quivering and shaking and he's bellowing my name into the air between us as he spills inside me.

He falls. Onto me. His breath sucking through his lips unevenly.

He's mumbling and still plunging into me as we come undone together.

I still first. Dazed and tingling. Loving his weight on me. Loving the jerks and twitches of his muscles as he rides the last waves of his orgasm.

He's panting, I'm gulping in air. His mouth searches for mine and I open my lips to allow his tongue entry. It's lazy. Sloppy. Perfect.

I cradle him with my body. My arms and legs around him as his tongue leaves my mouth and he collapses fully on to me. His breath on my throat, his arm still beneath me, still holding himself inside me.

"I love you," he whispers by my ear.

"I love you too," I whisper back.

**Jasper POV**

I think it's my bedside alarm going off but it doesn't stop when I slap the top of the clock. Alice mumbles beside me, begging me to make the god awful noise stop. I slap the clock again but the noise keeps going. The bright red display tells me its only one in the morning, not time to get up yet.

The fog of sleep lifts and I realise what the sound truly is. "It's the gate," I shout as I get to my feet and reach for my clothes.

Emmett meets me in the hallway. "Get on a monitor. Give me details before I let anyone in," he yells to me as we begin the run to the office, both of us cringing as we remember the disaster the last time alarms had gone off. I go into the office; he keeps going towards the foyer.

I switch feeds on the monitor on the desktop until I can see that it's two cops waiting at the gate, about to press the buzzer again. "Two police," I shout to Emmett who shouts back that I should let them in. I press the release on the gate and watch as the two uniformed men walk up the drive. Once they're at the front door I make my way there too, standing behind Emmett, ready for whatever he needs me to do next.

"What can I do for you?" Em asks politely.

"Are you Emmett McCarty?" cop one asks and when Emmett confirms that he is he introduces himself and his partner and asks for entry into the house for 'a word'. Emmett opens the door for them and gestures that they should follow us to the library. I hang back, just as I'd done the day Bella had scaled the tree. "Just listen, stay quiet until we know what this is about. If you hear movement in the house you head the others off," he tells me in a low voice before he joins the officers and motions for them to have a seat.

"What's this about?" Em asks as he takes a seat himself.

Cop one takes out a notepad and a pen while cop two does the talking. Pretty standard so far.

"Tell me what your association with Tanya Denali is," cop two insists, straight up.

"She's the former agent and manager for Edward Cullen. I'm his bodyguard," Em tells the guy without blinking.

"And who are you?" cop two asks me.

"He's Edward's other bodyguard," Emmett answers instead. "You said you were here to talk to me, so address me, not him."

Cop two looks over at cop one who is writing frantically in his little notepad at the exchange. "Alright," cop two drawls, obviously unimpressed with the reply he'd gotten. "You say Miss Denali is the former agent to your man. How long ago was their agreement broken?"

"A week ago," Emmett answers flatly.

Cop two looks back to cop one who nods, probably corroborating the time frame from his notes. "Without a professional association between her client and your man can you tell me the nature of your visit with Miss Denali today?" he asks.

Em guards his tells well. I see nothing and neither does cop one who writes nothing until Em begins to speak.

"Miss Denali still had a set of keys for a vehicle she'd been using that is owned by my man. I made an appointment to go there to collect them. I did. I left," Emmett says with a straight face.

"Where are these keys now?" cop two asks.

"On the hook by the front door."

"What time was your appointment?"

"Ten. I was on time," Em grins.

"What time did your appointment end?"

"Eleven, eleven fifteen," Em replies and I internally cringe.

An hour is a long time to collect a set of keys and both cops have come to the same conclusion.

"Awfully long appointment to return a set of keys," cop two opines out loud.

Em's no slouch though. "If you say so," he grins.

When cop two realises it's the only response he's going to get he leans forward in his seat a little and sets his eyes straight on Emmett. "Miss Denali's assistant says her boss was," he stops and reads from cop number one's notepad a second before returning his gaze to Emmett, "visibly shaken and upset after you left her office."

Again Emmett shows no outward sign of being intimidated as he responds simply. "Did she?"

Both cops are getting pissy. Em's playing them, not giving them anything at all, and I don't blame him. Neither of us knows why they're even here so it stood to reason that we'd keep our mouths shut until we did. Em must feel the same.

"I'll ask again, officer. What's all this about?"

"Where did you go at the conclusion of your meeting?" cop two asks, ignoring the request.

"I came back here," Emmett says simply.

"At what time did you arrive back?"

"Eleven thirty, around then I suppose. It's only a few blocks to Tanya's offices," Em shrugs.

"Can anyone verify that?" cop two asks.

"About a dozen people," Emmett laughs. "I'll ask again, what's all this about?"

"We'll need to speak to those dozen people," cop two says, again ignoring the request.

"You can. As soon as you tell me what the fuck this is all about," Em says, losing his temper now.

Both cops look up at him but neither answers the question. I'm stuck standing in the doorway hoping Em's left enough cash in the safe to bail him out if he loses much more of his legendary patience.

"Calm down, Mr McCarty," cop two huffs but Em's not having it.

"No. I don't think I will," he says frostily. "You woke us up at one in the morning asking for a word. You tell me nothing, have me provide an alibi and I still have no clue what I need one for. If I need an alibi something has obviously happened that you're planning to pin on me. So tell me what this is or get out so I can go back to sleep."

Cop two nods at cop one and the pages of the notepad are turned almost back to the front of the book. It's cop number one's turn to speak.

"Miss Denali was found dead in her apartment at 8pm this evening. Her appointment book lists you as her only and last appointment for today. Her assistant confirmed the deceased did meet with you and that the deceased left right afterwards seeming to be visibly shaken and upset. What do you have to say about that?" cop one asks.

This time Em lets his shock show. It's not a ploy either, it's genuine. "She's dead?" he asks and when both cops nod he runs a hand through his hair. "Well shit," he sighs.

I know exactly what he's thinking because it had been my first thought too. Jake Black shut her up, permanently.

"Who found her?" Emmett asks.

"We're not at liberty to say," cop one says firmly.

Em seems to think on things for a second and then he's on his feet. "This is Jasper Whitlock. He'll show you to the office. This whole place is wired. I'll appear on the tapes a hundred times as I moved through the house and grounds today. You can have the tapes. They're all time stamped," he says.

Cop one is scribbling so much, and so fast, he has to turn a page in his pad and start a new one with that.

"Until we can verify your alibi, and have had our technicians sift through your tapes, you'll need to come to the station with us," cop one says as he gets to his feet.

Em doesn't look happy but he doesn't look surprised either. "Let me get changed and have a word to Jasper and then I'm all yours."

"I can't allow you to leave our presence," cop two says.

"Then follow, I don't give a shit," Emmett says as he comes towards me at the door. He gives me instructions as we move through the house, the two cops following, and make our way to the door of the office. "Make a copy of the tapes from the machine for today. Get a hold of Caius; he's my lawyer as well as Ed's. Tell him to meet me at the station as soon as he can.

"I want them watched," he tells me with a nod towards the back of the house where everyone else is asleep. "Bella's going in to the restaurant; work with Seth to secure it and her. Esme and Carlisle are going with Alice to the bank, get Sam to follow.

"I want that guardhouse manned before dawn and I want one of those guys with a dog here as soon as it's possible. Ed doesn't leave. Not for anything. Keep him indoors if you can. If you can't I want a vest on him, even if it's just to take a walk to stretch his legs. No negotiating. If me being taken in freaks him out and he switches tell him there's a bunker in the house. He'll spend hours trying to find the way in. It'll keep him busy for hours.

"I'm gonna be a while. The tech's won't be in before eight in the morning and who knows how long they'll take to get what they need off the tapes. Any problems you call Sam. Other than that it's you and Seth. You up for this?" he asks.

"I'm on it, boss," I tell him firmly and then turn to go into the office with cop number one up my ass. Emmett stalks towards his room with cop number two up his.

I do as I'm told and make a copy of the whole days security tapes. While it's burning to disc I call Sam, waking both him and his wife up, and tell him what's going on. My own personal cop shadow says nothing, but he is taking notes in his pad. Furiously.

When the disc's done I put it into the plastic evidence bag the cop's holding out for me. Emmett comes back to the office, having donned dress pants a shirt and a tie, and tells me to keep my eyes and ears open.

I swear to him that I will and then he leaves with the two cops, one on either side of him as they walk down the drive and out the gates.

Too wired to sleep, and with a gut full of nerves, I go back to my room and shake Alice awake. I tell her I need her help and once she's up and focussed we grab coffee and head into the office to try and find out how Jake covered his tracks well enough after killing Tanya that Emmett was the cops first port of enquiry.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: A couple of smaller chapters now, it's a tension thing ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>Jasper POV<strong>

I rouse Caius from his bed half an hour after Em leaves with the two cops. He promises to be at the station at his client's side within the hour.

Next I drag Seth from his bed and as he chugs down a coffee Alice and I fill him in on the situation with Emmett, and the list of instructions I'd been left with.

By three in the morning he heads back to bed with a fully formed plan to keep his mark safe while she visits the restaurant one last time before her enforced holiday.

Next I work with Alice to build a plan to keep Esme and Carlisle safe while the three of them attend the bank to pay out their debts. A quick call to Sam, who is unamused at being woken so early, ensures Alice will have backup if not on hand then in the shadows while she walks the Masens through closing out their lives.

At six I call the security company and inform them that either John or Steve had to be in the new gatehouse and on duty before the sun came up.

Organising the dog and its handler is trickier. They aren't available to begin until the following day. I take it, but I'm not happy.

By eight in the morning Alice and I have a plan. A page of notes just waiting for check marks to be put beside each point as each item is achieved.

Neither of us is overly concerned about Emmett being at the police station. He's innocent and our security tapes will prove that. So that's a non issue. The cops just have to follow procedure and that takes time. What we are concerned about is the lack of information we _still_ didn't have about Jake.

He had to be living somewhere. Eating somewhere or buying groceries somewhere. He had to be driving something, using money in some form. He had to be still working. He had to be doing all those things and yet we couldn't find a single damn trace of the guy.

He was paying utilities; we knew that, because of the codes for the payments from his bank account. Alice had already traced the reference numbers on the gas and electricity accounts and they were in his name, but the address was for a post office box. Privacy laws prevented us from getting any more information and while I knew that given enough time Alice could hack the system and get that info I knew we didn't have days to waste on the effort.

After hours of debate about how to get more information on the guy the answer came to me. Tanya's assistant.

Angela Webber had worked for Tanya for nine years, plenty of time for her to have known both Bella and her dad as well as Jake Black in his capacity as a sub contractor for Tanya.

Tanya had hidden any reference to him being her employee well. It had taken me days to crack the encryption on her files and even connect them so we knew that Angela wasn't likely to spill what she knew about the guy under normal circumstances.

But, these weren't normal circumstances.

Her boss had just been murdered. Her job was in all likelihood gone. She'd been pulled from her bed by the police in the middle of the night. She'd be in shock and as horrible as the idea sat with both Alice and me, we knew that striking while the iron was hot was the only way.

It didn't take us long to find the information we'd need to convince Angela to spill. It was all a matter of public record, or at least on record where my very talented Alice could find it. Not exactly public, but not exactly hidden either.

Tanya's personal lawyer was Marcus Laurenti, famous for having saved the fortune of a high profile baseball player from the clutches of his cheating ex wife back in the nineties. He was touted as being ruthless, underhanded and completely without a scrap of honour to his name. The general feeling about the guy was that the word ethics made him break out in hives. He fitted Tanya's needs like a well loved glove.

His personal assistants name was Heidi and it didn't take me long to coach Alice so she'd know exactly what to say to Angela Webber and how.

The call had been brief but wielded an incredible amount of information. Useless information, but it did satisfy our joint craving to know exactly where Jake Black had been hiding out the past few weeks.

During the call Alice posed as Heidi and playing on Angela's shock she worked through the list of questions we'd planned before making the call. By the time she hung up we had a working knowledge of just how cunning, manipulative and clever Jake really was.

It wasn't difficult for Angela to provide contact details for him because he'd been living with _her_. Angela easily provided his cell phone number with the proviso that he probably couldn't be reached right now as he was out of town working and often got little to no reception where he was.

That was convenient we thought as we listened to her answers.

The call cleared up almost all of our questions about how he was living and why he was paying utilities when he didn't seem to have an actual residence. He was paying for Angela's. It didn't take long to work out that the car he was driving was registered to Angela and that the cell phone was in her name too.

It also didn't take long for us to work out that the cell phone had its gps switched off and couldn't be tracked. Of course the car was a dead end as well.

With nothing else to go on that could pinpoint his whereabouts we switch focus to the parts of our list we could achieve. Getting Esme and Carlisle safely through the city to conduct their business and getting them back to the house again. Getting Bella to the restaurant and back again safely and keeping Ed amused while I dealt with the modifications to the car and the installation of the electrical interference hardware.

Alice and I were both buzzed and feeding off adrenalin by the time the rest of the house woke up and got moving.

**Edward POV**

Waking up with her beside me was never going to get old.

Waking her up with my lips and fingers and then slipping inside her was going to take this and another couple of lifetimes to get old.

Watching her come undone for me was fantastical. Amazing and incredibly satisfying.

Showering with her and hearing her moan as I soaped her body made me feel like I wanted to do it all over again. Of course I couldn't.

There were things she needed to do today. The restaurant needed her attention and no matter how much I'd worry about her leaving the safety of the house I knew and understood that she needed to go.

I had to be satisfied with her assurance that she'd be careful and that once her tasks were complete we could spend some time together.

After dressing we met the others in the kitchen for breakfast and that's when the day went to hell.

Jasper gently informed us that Emmett was essentially in police custody and that Tanya was dead. Murdered. In her own home.

Someone had snuck into her house and murdered her. Someone could sneak into mine and murder me. Bella. My parents. Emmett. Seth. Any of them. All of them. All of us.

The panic I felt came over me quickly. Jasper hadn't finished telling us the news when the heat began its journey from my gut to my chest and throat.

There was no staving it off this time. I knew it before my vision began to shimmer. Long before the ache at the base of my neck began and way before Bella put my chin into her hand and begged me to hold it off.

"It's James," I hiss as I get to my feet from the table. "Why are you all sitting here when there's work to be done?" I ask the assembled crowd around me.

"James," Seth addresses me as he too comes to his feet. "Emmett's gone off to complete the task you set him in readiness for your next mission and has left us in your capable hands. He said you'd give us instructions for the day and then he said to remind you to continue with the work on the secret entrance you were installing for the bunker under the library, if you have the time."

I crane my neck and stare at him, intimidating him and making clear that I am the dominant male in the room. This group is here to do my bidding. It's me who gives the orders here and for once they are silent and waiting for my instructions.

"You three get back to cleaning," I tell the two women and the older male. Their names are inconsequential to me and I never bother learning them. They rarely last long before others take over their chores. "You two can get back to monitoring the most recent situation," I tell Emmett's new man and his female cohort. "Seth, you're to contact Rosalie and make sure she is up to speed before we meet today. After that you may return to your normal duties. I will be in the library and do not wish to be disturbed."

My instructions are clear and precise so I turn on my heel, thrust my chin into the air and head towards the rear of the house.

My mind is filled with mission details so for a few minutes I simply stand in the centre of the library and stare around it. I catalogue the fine artefacts within its walls and try my hardest to remember which of them I'd used to conceal the secret mechanism that would open my bunker.

Nothing jumps out at me as a likely candidate. From my many previous missions, and my experience as a world renowned cat burglar, I know that the answer will be a simple one. I know that obvious things could sometimes hide the most secretive ...well, secrets.

I head right to the mantle over the fireplace. I grip the bust of Shakespeare firmly and bend its head backwards. The loud crack startles me and I drop the head to my feet. It smashes into a million shards on the hearth.

"So, not a switch in a bust," I muse out loud as I move towards the next obvious item.

The sconce on the farthest wall matches all the others in the room but that one, for some reason, seems to call to me. I reach it in just a few strides. It's up on the wall just above my head so it's simple to reach for it and pull on it. It comes away from the wall easily and for a split second I think 'success' in my mind.

When the plaster dust begins to rain down I rethink my jubilation and leave the now defunct light fitting dangling from its wiring. "Not the sconce," I mutter darkly.

A world globe catches my eye as I move through the room. It's large and seated at its poles on a brass stand, a thin ribbon of glue holding its two halves together on its perch.

It's exactly the kind of thing I'd use to conceal a hidden switch. The two halves of it should, of course, look as though they are meant to be glued together. But I am a master of my craft and it seemed likely that I would use this seemingly innocuous glue line to my benefit.

I snatch the whole piece up off the side table. I cradle the brass stand under my arm and pull the globe away from its tethers. The stand falls to the floor now that I no longer need it and I'm left with the large sphere between my deft hands.

Holding it against my stomach for leverage I hold each half and twist. It doesn't give. The glue holds.

I brace it between my knees and give a mighty tug, demanding verbally that the sphere release its hidden secret for its master.

Instead my knees release the globe and it spins off, rolling along the carpet like a multi-hued bowling ball. I watch, fascinated by its trajectory, as it collides with a standard lamp on the other side of the room. The lamp wobbles then crashes to the floor. Its shattered shade and the light globe shards mixing with the pieces of Shakespeare's head and the plaster dust from the sconce.

The globe is intact. The glue has held.

"Not the globe," I ruminate.

I take a soda from the little fridge by the sofa and sit to regather my thoughts.

Somewhere in this library I've hidden a secret switch to a bunker. Somewhere in this room there is something not quite right. I have to centre myself, converge all of my mental capabilities so that I can pick out which is the obvious switch. I sip the soda and squint around the room.

**BPOV**

"It was fast," I tell Esme who still looks shell-shocked more than an hour after Edward has switched to James.

"I didn't notice anything at all. One minute he was..." she trails off, staring out the living room windows blankly.

"I know what to look for now, so I saw it, but it was still fast by comparison to the other times," I tell her gently.

"How long will it last?" she asks.

"Hard to say," I shrug. "Remember at Emmett's? He switched to James when we were in the bunker but with all the stress surrounding him he only lasted a little while before switching to Rupert. This was a big shock, that's true, but the tension and anxiety are gone now, so maybe not long this time."

"Will he go further? Switch to that awful Rupert?" she asks with a shudder.

This I'm happy to answer with confidence. "No. I don't think he will. There aren't any more triggers. He's taken himself off to the library now so unless something else happens to set him off again he should eventually wear himself out and sleep it off."

"You're so calm about it all," she whispers.

I don't think on an answer. "I love him."

"You always did," she says with a smile. "Didn't you?"

"I did. But he wouldn't...he said I was ...it doesn't matter now," I shrug again.

"No. It doesn't," she agrees kindly. "I watched him, when he was with you, before. When you would be at his home before your dad was killed. The two of you moved like magnets. As though neither could bear to be too far from the other. I knew he loved you back then. And I knew why he didn't act on it. You've got your chance now."

"And we're taking it," I tell her earnestly. "If he doesn't remember, if he never remembers anything at all from that time I'll love him as he is now. I promise. I won't let him go a second time."

I can see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes but she smiles despite them. "I know you won't. And I know he won't let you go again now."

A discreet cough breaks our attention away from one another and we both turn to find Alice standing by the back of the sofa, car keys in her hand. "Time to go Mrs M," she says in her lovely sing-song voice.

Esme stands and wishes me luck at the restaurant before following Alice from the room. I go to the office where I find Seth and Jasper leaning over a map of the city that's spread out on the desk top.

"This is the route we took to come back from the red carpet and at this time of day it'll be pretty empty traffic wise," Seth tells Jasper as his finger traces the lines of the roads on the map. "Hey, boss. One minute and we'll head out too," he tells me before returning his attention to the map.

"You'll come back the same way?" Jasper asks, retracing the same lines in the opposite direction.

"No. We'll go north here and then double back here and come out here," he says, showing his intentions with his finger along the paper.

"How long do you think you'll need?" Jasper asks me as he straightens.

"A couple of hours at the most," I shrug.

He nods and Seth has me check that I have my personal alarm and that its battery is working correctly before he says we're good to go.

I wait by the front door for him to start and move the car to the foot of the porch steps and then I run to it and sink into the passenger side.

"Don't worry, we've got every base covered," he assures me as he goes through the gate, giving John the new guard a curt nod before turning left into the street.

**Emmett POV**

It's been a long night and I'm beat.

The two cops who'd brought me in were long gone. I'd been handed over to two detectives, Devlin Chambers and Frank Moffat, the instant I'd been seen through the doors.

I relinquish my cell phone, watch and the contents of my pockets as I am processed and then I'm put in a waiting room until my lawyer arrived.

Nobody was treating me as a suspect in Tanya's death, not really. I wasn't grilled, interrogated or even really questioned too much since being taken to an interview room.

Frank has asked a few questions about what the techs are likely to see on the tapes and Devlin - who I'd started calling Beans in my head somewhere after three in the morning – has asked to have my gun license but other than that they've left me alone with Caius.

I still didn't have any information about how Tanya had died but I had a few good guesses stored away in my head. Nobody would confirm or deny anything in my presence.

At eight, as predicted, I am told that the techs are officially looking over the tapes and then I am offered more coffee and some greasy bacon and eggs for breakfast. The hospitality is fine, the food not so much.

At nine we're joined by the original cops who'd come to the house. Nick Stimpson has me calling him Homer in my head and once or twice out loud, which doesn't exactly earn me much respect. Pete Moss – and yes, I'd chuckled out loud at that back at the house – wants to ask me some questions unrelated to Tanya Denali.

Pete had been the one taking notes the night before and he brought out his trusty notepad again once we are all settled around the interview room table again. The questions are simple ones and both cops seem genuinely interested in my answers as I give them.

Yes my man is being threatened. Yes his girlfriend too. Yes I have some evidence of who might be behind it and yes, I have considered going to the police with what I had.

"But honestly guys," I say to both cops, "if I'd have come to you with what little I've got would you have taken me seriously?" I ask.

"Probably not," Nick agrees. "But we do know now, and I did see just how seriously you and Jasper were when discussing your man's safety last night, so we're listening now. Tell us everything and we'll see what we can do."

So I spill my guts. All of it. I tell them of Charlie's death and the state it has left Ed in. I tell them about Tanya's confession about having found both men in the trunk of the car. Her involvement with Jake. The payments she'd made to him and her explanation of why she'd been paying him.

I tell them about Bella, how she was connected to Charlie and how she is connected to Ed. I tell them she'd been married Jake. I give them her description of the guy from the night we'd driven home from my house and then I tell them about the fire, the note left on the brick and the voicemail message left on Bella's phone that night.

I tell them about Ed's dreams and how his therapist has always assumed he dreamed of blood because he'd been in the trunk with Charlie that day. I tell them about his parents and how Tanya had successfully kept them away from their only child all these years. I tell them everything I can think of.

At the end of my tale they are both pale and Pete has a notepad filled with information. They both thank me for my candour, promise to look in to what I've told them and then they wish me good luck as they leave.

At half past ten I'm given a cup of coffee and a message from Frank and Beans that 'it won't be much longer'.

At eleven Caius takes a call from his assistant in the hall and I'm left in the interview room on my own for twenty long minutes. I'm itching to get the hell out of there and back to the house but know that bitching about it out loud will get me nothing and nowhere. It might even mean I'd lose my 'not a suspect' status. I couldn't have that. I needed to get back to guarding Ed and Bella.

At twelve Homer and Pete come back in and give me the low down on what they'd found. It amounted to the sum total of diddly squat and I can tell from their expressions, and the language used, that they aren't happy about it.

"Jacob Black has a current private investigators license but other than that we can't find a fucking thing about the guy," Homer sneers as he reads his notes.

"The guy's almost invisible," Pete adds just as snidely.

"Almost," I agree. "I've got seven guys all searching for him and so far they've turned up nothing. If we find him before you do I'll share," I chuckle darkly.

"I'd like to tell you we'd share with you if we find him first, but..." Homer laughs.

"Yeah, I get it. I appreciate any help you're willing to give me, truly," I tell the two cops who leave the interview room looking just as unhappy as when they'd left all idealistic and confident a couple hours earlier.

They aren't going to find anything more than I had and that wasn't much.

At one thirty in the afternoon, almost twelve hours after I'd been escorted to the station, my cell phone, wallet and ID are returned to me. Frank and Beans have reviewed the security tapes from the house and they, as well as the technicians, are sure that I was exactly where I'd said I'd been during the hours before and after Tanya's death.

I am officially allowed to leave.

I waste no time after that. I thank Caius, tell him to bill me for his time, refuse his offer of a lift home and have my ass in a taxi - one the cops had called for me - with it pointed towards the house within minutes. I turn my cell back on as soon as the driver takes the first turn.

As the text messages and missed call notifications start rolling in my heart starts pounding. I listen to the messages in turn, my blood pressure getting higher and higher as they go.

Jasper's voice shouts into his handset. His frantic message has me shouting at the driver to put his foot to the floor as I dial the station, ignoring all the other messages, and demanding to speak to either Homer or Pete. I tell them the situation as quickly as I can. They tell me to slow down, to calm down, to stop assuming the worst and to hang back and to let them deal with it but I tell them to, politely, blow it out their asses.

My only concession is that if they beat me to the house they can have dibs on what they find.

I had a ten minute head start. Nobody was beating me back to that house.

**Edward POV**

The fireplace looks a likely place to hide a secret switch so I cross the room and get down on my knees in front of it. I run my hands along its sides, under the mantle, over the mouldings looking for anything loose or out of place. There's nothing.

The flagstones on the hearth are smooth and worn with no obvious signs of ever having been tampered with but I take the time to tap each one carefully anyway. I listen for sounds of hollowness but there's nothing. Just the sound of knuckles on stone.

The fireplace itself isn't deep. It's a shallow cavity with a smallish chimney rising behind it. I settle myself half inside it, still on my knees, and run my hands around the brick structure. It's covered in soot, of course, and again there are no loose bricks or outcroppings that feel as though they don't belong.

All I get for my trouble is black hands and sore knees.

"Not the fireplace," I say out loud as I move back into the centre of the room.

I take stock of my surroundings. I study each wall of the room carefully, an idea forming in my cavernous mind. There are three partitions to each wall and three blank walls that make up the room. The fourth wall is covered from floor to ceiling with bookcases, but the other three walls are blank save for the odd picture in its frame.

I test the bookcases first, discounting them from being the possible hidden entrance to the bunker. They don't shift. They are tethered together tightly and there is no give in any of the joins. The wood is smooth and unblemished. The surround is secured to the wall behind firmly. There are no creases, no outward sign that the bookcase itself isn't a part of the wall. I know it isn't but I can't find the seam and therefore I know that the bookcase isn't the switch.

I return my focus back to the other, standard walls. There are twelve sections each defined top and bottom by intricate mouldings. Rising from the floor each panel is covered by wooden wainscoting about three feet high. Atop the trim runs a rail and then the walls rise to the ceiling in long, cream painted panels.

The panels are all equal in width, to the naked eye they are anyway. Only a tradesman could say for sure. I don't have a toolkit with me so I trust the judgement of my eye. Not one of the panels seems any different to the next – apart from the one that holds the only door into or out of the room.

I move to the door and begin to run my hands over each panel in turn.

I press the left edge, the centre and then the right edge of each panel as I make my way around the room ending back at the door again. Nothing.

Well, nothing other than thirty six sooty handprints that is.

The panels won't move. Not one of them. There isn't one that is false. They are all equally as sure, equally as strong and equally just as they seem. Walls.

I crane my neck and look at the ceiling. Its ten feet above me and unreachable by standing on the floor.

I'm trained to pick out nuances, disciplined enough to be patient, and so I stand in the centre of the room and look upwards. The sheeting that makes up the ceiling is flawless. The paint as crisp today as it was the day I commissioned the tradesman to do it. There are no smudges. No shadows save for the ones thrown by the ceiling roses, their light fixtures and the blades of the ceiling fan. The surface is smooth. Perfect.

A little too perfect I think as I eye the ladder on its rail in front of the bookcases.

I climb it lithely. I'm as surefooted as a jungle cat scaling a tree to lie in wait for its prey.

The ladder doesn't detach from the bookcase and that's a detail that I would've known when planning to hide the switch for the bunkers entrance.

I use my three-toed sloth-like grip to steady myself on the top rung and then I lean outwards. I run my hand over the ceiling at the top of the bookcase but find nothing of note. Not even dust. The ceiling is just what it seems to be. Plaster covered in paint and completely innocuous.

I slip coming down the ladder, three-toed sloth-like grip be dammed, and face plant onto the Persian rug like an amateur. "I saw the YouTube footage of that sloth falling from that tree just like everyone else!" I bellow into the stillness of the room. Centring myself using an ancient technique I learned from a Hindu high priest I take in deep breaths through my nose and close my eyes. I clasp my hands in front of my chest and wait until the stinging in my face subsides.

"Note to self: next time use the Madagascan lemur-tail grip," I mumble out loud as a reminder. "No, wait," I reply to myself, "scrap that. I don't have a tail. Research an animal that has opposable thumbs and a strong grip for next time. Perhaps a possum or some kind of ape."

I pat myself down, checking for injuries, but as usual I've come up clean and unharmed. International spies tended to be made of stern stuff and I am no exception.

I look down at the rug that had somewhat broken my fall and an idea springs into my steel trap of a mind. I push the sofa backwards until the entirety of the rug is exposed and then I roll it up. It's heavy, musty, and it smells a little like Emmett's feet. Or at the very least like the POOLROOM after Emmett has cooked Mexican food.

As grotty as it is it isn't hiding a trap door, a switch or any other secret. The floor is just a floor. The rug is just a rug. So I set it back where it should've been and pushed the sofa back into position on it.

I was running out of options.

I had two things left to try so I move back to the bookcase and begin pulling each tome off the shelf. It's tedious. There are probably three or four hundred volumes in the case and I pull every single one of them forward hoping that one is a fake and will lead me to the secret bunkers entrance.

None of them do.

I take another soda from the mini fridge, drain it quickly and then stride towards my last resort.

**Jasper POV**

I couldn't take my eyes away from the monitor showing me Ed's search of the library. I'd laughed more in the last few hours than I had in the whole of the last year. His ideas were ridiculous but his antics were hilarious.

Josh, the guy who'd come to beef up the internet security, had been in stitches while he'd sat at the desk in the office installing all the new software. He'd had a hard time tearing himself away once he'd finished but I'd gotten him packed up and off the property in pretty good time.

By midday I am getting antsy for Emmett to return and after a quick call to the station I am told he'd be released within the hour if everything went to plan.

I call Alice to check on her progress and am pleased to learn that everything has gone smoothly at the bank and that she is now making her way – with the Masens in tow – to the high school where Carlisle is to hand in his resignation. A quick talk with Sam tells me that everything is as it should be with that group.

Seth had called several times to report that all was well at the restaurant too. I had taken him at his word that going there was safe because it was, essentially, crawling with cops. The drive over there had gone exactly to plan. There was nothing untoward to see or hear in her office and the drive back should be a smooth one.

Ed is busy searching for the illusive bunker. Emmett would be home soon. John is guarding the gate and at sundown Byron is going to begin making rounds of the grounds with Bubbles the killer guard dog.

Everything is as it should be. Everyone is safe.

And then everything goes to shit.

**BPOV**

"I'll see you in a few weeks, Jenny," I call over my shoulder as I slip into the hall with Seth. "I'm all set," I tell him and he leads the way down the hall, past the kitchen and out the back storeroom door to the parking lot behind the building.

"Head down," he reminds me as he opens the rear door and steps out into the bright sunlight.

I tuck my chin to my chest, pull my bag tighter to my side and take the short distance towards my car as quickly as I can without actually running. Seth has his hand on my shoulder and as the shot rings out I feel him flinch before his hand falls away.

I spin quickly. Shocked. Terrified. Gasping.

I don't see anything or anyone.

Just Seth. At my feet. Clutching his stomach as his blood seeps through his fingers and begins to pool on the ground.

"Use your alarm," he grunts as I kneel down beside him.

I look down and watch the crimson wave soak into the knees of my jeans.

Seth grunts and I look to him. His eyes are squinted. His lips already pale.

I want to call 911. I want to call Emmett. I want to press my hands to Seth's stomach and beg him to hold on. I want to do a million things all at once.

"Push the fucking button," Seth gasps at me quietly, too quietly though his eyes are fierce. But they begin to dull as the seconds tick over.

I straighten my leg so I can get the alarm from my pocket. I press the button and then shove my hands over Seth's to put pressure on his wound. As soon as my hands cover his I'm yanked off my feet.

**Jasper POV**

Bella's personal alarm sounds loudly in the quiet of the house. I race to the office to silence it and am dialling Seth's cell before the noise has finished echoing around the small room.

Not only does he not pick up but the call doesn't even go to voicemail. The droning voice of the carrier tells me the handset isn't in range and can't be reached.

I dial Bella's and get the same result.

Calling Emmett's is futile – he'd have relinquished it the second he walked into the station – but I do it anyway. I tell him something's happened but I don't know what. I tell him Bella's pressed her alarm but that I can't raise either her or Seth on their cells. The beep tells me I've got no more time to record any more message so I hang up.

I know that Sam is too far away to be of much help because he is tailing Alice and the Masens who had to make the trek all the way to Oxnard to finish their errands.

I decide that Leah and her crew that are at Bella's house watching it are my safest bet time wise.

She answers on the first ring and I shout at her to get herself and another body over to the restaurant. She rings off promising to check in the instant she knows something. I calculate that it will take them at least twenty minutes to get there.

I call the actual restaurant line and am put on hold before I can explain what I need. I redial and a frazzled female voice tells me to please hold again. I slam the phone down and try to think of what I should do next.

I pull the keyboard on the desk to me roughly and type in the password to bring up the tracking device that's been fitted to Bella's car. It feels like an eternity before the flashing red blip on the screen shows me it's zipping through traffic on a different route to what Seth had shown me on the map earlier.

I try his cell again and get the same message. Bella's is the same.

Whatever has happened has made them flee the restaurant and from the look of the course the red blip is following they are making their way back to the house in an awful hurry.

The deviation from the route worries me. It makes me think someone is either following them or whatever they are fleeing from is dangerous. Deviations are only ever used for danger.

I check my watch.

Six minutes have passed since the sounding of her alarm.

I keep my eyes on the red blip as I try to formulate what to do before their arrival. I have at most ten minutes.

If they're in trouble I need to be ready.

If one or both of them are hurt I need to be ready for that too.

I throw a quick look at the monitor and can see that Ed is still consumed with his task.

I have no idea what's coming my way and make the decision to prepare for the worst. If Bella's hurt Ed will run out of the house as fast as his legs can carry him leaving him exposed in the driveway. If its Seth neither of us will know until an assessment can be made but either way Ed's going to want to get to Bella as fast as he can.

Decision made I run from the office heading for the back of the house. I snatch up what I need as I go and then I run through the house and skid to a stop inside the library door.

He's standing by the full sized marble statue of a naked woman. He's got a hand on each of her breasts and it looks like he's squeezing them for all he's worth.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I scream as I run further into the room and grab him by the shoulders.

"The secret switch is always hidden in a statue," he mumbles as I spin him around and shove him in the direction of the bookcases. "What are you doing?" he protests, batting my hands away.

"I need you to get down into the bunker, now," I shout as I run back to the doorway.

"What's going on?" he asks as he spins back around to face me.

"Either Seth or Bella are in trouble. I need to make sure you're protected so I can help them," I tell him simply.

He's blinking rapidly where he stands and I hope that he's not going to switch to Rupert because that asshole I couldn't handle at the best of times. I'd take James over Rupert any day.

I ignore whatever's going on in his head and try to concentrate on what I'm supposed to achieve. There's an ordinary light switch there as well as the control knob and switch for the ceiling fan. The knob works as it should, the switch is a dummy. I flip it on and wait for the bookcase to swing open, giving us access to the bunker.

"I knew it!" Ed shouts as I hustle him towards the doorway at the top of the stairs that will lead us down into the bunker.

"You didn't know shit," I mutter as I guide him down. "I need you to stay down here," I say firmly as we go. "There's food and drinks here," I tell him, showing him the tiny fridge with the cupboard above when we get inside. "I'll turn on a monitor so you can see up into the house, but I need you to stay down here."

He hasn't switched to Rupert yet but he's not exactly James anymore either. I don't think. He's not fighting me for control of the situation so I don't think he's James. But he's not leering or being crude either. He looks as though he's in some sort of limbo. No man's land. His eyes are glassy and he's just standing in the middle of the bunker staring blankly.

"Ed!" I shout to get his attention. He does turn to face me but I don't have time to wonder who he's thinking he is. "Stay down here. Relax. Chill out. You're safe down here. Everything you need to wait this out is right here," I tell him, patting the desktop beside my hip. "I'll come back for you as soon as I can," I tell him.

"Alright," he mumbles as he sinks down onto the sofa.

I check the weapons cabinet is still securely locked, flick on a monitor so it won't be so quiet for him and by the time I turn back around and am ready to leave he's slumped against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed.

I hope he'll sleep it off.

I race back up the stairs, push the bookcase closed behind me and then run back to the office.

I don't even get time to call the gatehouse and alert John to what's coming his way when I see Bella's car pulling up to the gates.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading. **

**Please review. **


	20. Chapter 20

**BPOV**

I'm covered in blood. Seth's blood. It's soaked into my jeans and it covers my hands. I think I've wiped my face too because I can still smell it even though I've got my hands pressed between my knees to keep them from shaking.

Everything hurts from being jerked off my feet so roughly. My scalp is burning where he'd pulled my hair. My cheek is on fire where he's slapped me to make me stop screaming and my shoulder feels wrenched. He pulled it so hard, and I'd fought against his hold so violently, I know I'll be bruised come morning. Maybe he's damaged it more than just bruising I think to myself as I stare out the passenger window of my own car. The fiery ache is just a distraction though.

I'm trying to think of other things, anything other than the reality I'm living with right then.

The stark realisation that I might not live to see another dawn presses at my consciousness but I shove it aside and instead go over all the details I can recall from the last half hour. Emmett will need them. He'll want them. He'll be meticulous if I survive this.

I try to make a mental list to give him later. Every kick and punch I'd attempted or landed. Every spit, screech and bite I'd made as Jake had tried to get me into the driver's seat of my own car I catalogue for Emmett for later. For after. For when this is done.

If I get the chance to tell him. If he has a chance to hear me tell it.

I lick my lip and try to remember how much force was used to strike me as Jake gave up the notion of _me_ driving _him_ to Edward's house. There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen. I'd told him so too. I'd screamed it at him as he pulled me and pushed me. I'd made myself more than clear. If he was desperate to get to Edward's house he was going to have to drive. I wouldn't take him. It wasn't going to be _me_ who brought this violence to his door.

I do my best to try and calculate how many minutes of stunned silence I'd given him after the slap that had allowed him to get behind the wheel himself and for him to take me out onto the busy street unnoticed.

I squint down at my watch through one good and one rapidly blackening eye. I think it's been maybe ten minutes since he'd shot Seth.

Looking down at the blood that still coats my hands I know it's likely that it'll be too late for Seth once someone comes looking for us. His wound had been too bad, in too vital a place for him to hold on for a quarter hour.

"Please don't do this," I beg as Jake makes a turn into another back street.

"Shut the fuck up," he hisses as he checks the rearview mirror for the thousandth time.

I want to hope that we're being followed but know that we aren't. To anyone looking we're just a man and a woman driving along a suburban street. Nobody would be able to see my black eye and the cut on my lip through the dark tinting of the windows and although Jake looks terrifying to me to anyone else he'd look pretty normal.

He's got a scowl on his face and his fingers are clenched around the wheel so tight his knuckles are white but he's not even breathing heavily.

I am though. I'm shaking all over then and I know its shock setting in. And fear. I'm terrified.

I don't want us to reach the house. Seeing Seth shot so easily, without so much as a warning, and feeling the boiling rage from the psychopath sitting in the driver's seat beside me I pray we don't make it. I hold out for a reason, any reason. I hope that something stops us from getting there.

As I stare out the window I remember Emmett's words that night we drove back from his house in the mountains. He said it would be Jakes ego that brings him down in the end. He said he'd be waiting, watching and ready when the anger and ego made Jake make a mistake.

Well, Emmett isn't here I think as I squint. He might not even be at the house. He might still be sitting at the police station, totally unaware of what's happening to me. They'd have taken his cell phone. My alarm would sound for him but I had no way to know if he'd get the message.

It would for Seth but I don't remember hearing his cell beeping as he lay gasping on the ground. It didn't matter anyway. Seth couldn't help me. It was Seth who needed the most help right now anyway. Someone would go looking for us and they'd find Seth.

Jasper would have gotten the alert too I try to console myself mentally. Jasper would know what to do. Emmett would've told him. He would've trained him. He'd know to keep Edward safe from whatever plans Jake had. He'd know to protect his mark before protecting me. I have to hold on to that hope and do my best to have faith that Jasper wouldn't let Edward anywhere near what was heading for them.

I have no clue how to appeal to Jake's ego anymore. It's been more than a year since I've had any contact with him. I don't know this version of Jake and I begin to wonder if I ever truly did.

No. Jakes ego isn't something I can use to my advantage. His anger, however, is.

I decide on my course of action as we take another turn into another back street. There is only one turn left before we'll be turning into Edward's actual street. I had to do it now.

"Call an ambulance," I hiss, reaching for my cell phone in the centre console.

"Shut the fuck up," comes his snarled reply as he yanks the phone from my hand and throws it over his shoulder and into the back of my car.

"You're a murderer if you don't," I say as calmly as I can.

His reaction is instant and as I wipe a fresh trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth after his strike I take in a deep breath and try to convince myself that stirring his anger is my only hope of ending this _before_ we get to the house.

"You're even more stupid than I already think you are if you think they're going to let you just drive through the gates," I tell him flatly.

The hit, when it comes this time, is to my already injured shoulder and I can't help but cry out. "Don't make me hurt you," he whispers, almost gently, as he rights himself in his seat after making the lunge at me.

I do my best to ignore the pain in my shoulder, and the irony of what he's just said. Physically hurting me is the same thing as mentally hurting me and he knows it. "You don't think killing my friends is going to hurt me?" I say more loudly than I'd like in the confines of the car. I try to make my tone defiant but I think I've failed when he turns his face to mine and I can see the smug grin on his lips.

"Friends?" he laughs. "They're not your fucking friends."

"You're right. They're more than friends. They're my family," I taunt.

"I'm your fucking family!" he bellows, making me cringe away. Not in fear, at the severity of the statement.

"Not anymore," I remind him as we make the final turn into Edward's street.

"I will be again," he mumbles, almost to himself.

I can't let it go. I can't let that sit out there between us and this is my last chance to push him over the edge before we get to the house, so I take it.

"You never will be. Ever again, Jake," I tell him honestly. "Not after this."

"This is just the beginning," he whispers as he slows the car down. I can see the new gatehouse now.

It's not on the driver's side of the vehicle like it should be because there isn't any room for it there and its installation had been needed so quickly there hadn't been time for the verge to be cleared.

"No. This is the end," I tell Jake as we approach.

He slows almost to a complete stop but doesn't pull off to the side of the road. He turns in his seat and stares at me for a long moment before speaking in a low voice. "The only thing ending here today is our estrangement."

I get no chance to respond before he guns the engine and covers the last fifty yards of the street before turning sharply into Edward's driveway.

"You do as I say, when I say it," he hisses as he stills the car. "Stay quiet. Stay still," he warns as the new guard steps out of the new gatehouse and takes the few steps towards the car.

Jake uses the buttons on the driver's door to lower my window and as the guard leans down to speak Jake shoots out his right forearm and pins me to the seat with it.

The shot is quiet, even in the tiny cabin of the car. The only sound then is my scream and the dull thud as the guard drops to the ground beside the car.

I scream. I know I scream. I can't help it.

Seeing Seth shot isn't like this looks. I'd been looking at John when the shot came. I hadn't been looking at Seth so this is even more shocking.

I scream again and Jake slaps me again to get my attention. He's got it now. He did before but this...now...this makes it even more real than before.

He uses my gate clicker as though he's done it a hundred times and I watch as the gate slowly pulls away, giving him free access.

I stare at the house and hope. I hope nobody comes out. I hope they barricade the doors. I hope the trip wire does something. The cameras. The motion detectors. A huge, snarling, rampant man eating dog comes and eats him. Us. Anything to stop him from getting inside the house. I hope that anything happens to stop either of us getting into that house.

I think my hope has come true as he drives slowly up the driveway because nobody comes out of the house. I hope they are ready in there. I hope they are armed to the teeth and most of all I hope they don't try to spare me and take a shot at Jake if the opportunity presents itself.

But nobody knows it isn't me and Seth simply returning from the restaurant.

Surely Emmett, or Jasper, has seen the guard fall I hope as Jake comes to a stop at the head of the drive.

I shiver, pleased that my hope has been fulfilled and nobody is rushing outside to see what's what.

The hope is quickly dashed.

The front door opens before Jakes even had a chance to switch off the car's ignition and in the blink of an eye Jasper is running down the steps towards us.

I want to shout to warn him that it's not Seth with me but before I can open my mouth Jake's forearm is across my chest pinning me again as he raises his gun.

This time I know what he's about to do so I jerk as far forward as I can and as the gun goes off a second time I look to where Jasper had been standing and see him clutch his shoulder as he hits the drive.

I prepare to scream again but by the time I've taken in the sight of Jasper writhing on the ground Jake is already out of the car and standing over the prone body on the gravel.

Another shot rings out and this time I do scream. He's shot Jasper in the chest. From a standing position. He won't survive I think to myself as I'm grabbed by the hair again and dragged from the car.

"Walk," Jake yells in my ear as I stumble going past Jasper.

I'm not able to look around myself. I'm not able to look back to check on Jasper. To see if he's breathing. To press my already bloody hands to his wounds. To beg him to hold on.

To tell him how sorry I am.

Jake marches us straight through the open front door and into the house. He turns from left to right and then chooses to go right. I'm in front of him, as though I'm his shield and I start to think that I probably am.

He shoves me into the open office and forces me to sit in Emmett's chair.

"Move and I'll torture your lover before I kill him," he tells me calmly as he goes behind the desk and begins clicking the buttons on the monitors one after another. He leaves the monitors after a second or two and then he's clicking things using the computers mouse.

I sit as still as I can.

He wants Edward. He wants to kill Edward.

_That's_ what this is all about. I suddenly understand. It's a shock. Bigger even than what I'd already witnessed this day.

Jake wants to kill Edward.

And then I start to _really_ think on that.

I might now know what Jake wants to do but I have no idea why.

I'm snapped out of my shock, and my chance to ask any questions is lost, when Jake begins to chuckle. "Of all the dumb luck," he laughs as he comes back around the desk towards me. "Emmett's not here," he grins down at me. "That fucker in the drive will bleed out in seconds and your lover's alone in the house. Let's go have a little fun, Isabella Marie," he laughs as he pulls me to my feet again.

**Edward POV**

At first it looks like I'm watching mission tapes.

The car is familiar. The setting too. The guard I don't recognise. His uniform gives his occupation away but other than that he isn't familiar to me.

I see him drop to the ground by the car and wonder who'd made the shot. It hadn't been me. I didn't recall this mission. I don't see a sniper anywhere on the screen. The picture isn't wide enough. I can't see past the vehicle. Just the gatehouse, the gate and the car that is now moving up the drive.

A man rushes out the front door and towards the car and falls to the ground within seconds. I don't hear the shot and I begin to wonder if the tape I'm watching is faulty. I still can't see the sniper. I can't make out where the shots are coming from. The trajectory or where the sniper is hiding is also unclear.

I watch as another man races around the front of the vehicle, weapon at the ready and I flinch as he shoots the already prone man on the ground. A chest shot. It's clinical. Precise. Without emotion. Professional. But not what I'd have chosen. A clean head shot is always preferable. Especially at that range.

Perhaps eliminating his target isn't his main objective I think as I study the scene. A quick death isn't always what a professional wants. Sometimes death should take a little time if the reason for it is personal.

It's clear to me now that the initial shots were fired from within the vehicle. It's smart. Polished. Clean.

The shooter opens the passenger door and a woman is roughly removed from within the vehicle. She's bloody though she seems not to have been gravely injured. She's manhandled by the shooter and as they begin the trek towards the building the shooters face – and the woman's - is revealed to me for the first time.

**BPOV**

Jake makes me stand still right in the middle of the living room; his grip on my shoulder is painful as he turns me around and around.

"You see this, Eddie boy?" he laughs, looking upwards. "I know you can. This whole place is wired. I know there's cameras everywhere. You see her, Eddie?"

I hope with everything I have that he believes what he's saying but that Emmett is in the house somewhere and is smart enough to hide his position from the monitors. But I just don't know for sure.

Emmett would never have let the guard be gunned down so callously without making a stand and he definitely wouldn't stay hidden after Jasper was killed. So I know that my wish for him to appear, miraculously, and save me is futile.

And Edward...I have no idea where he is, what state he is in. All I can hope is that he stays put. Jake can do to me what he wants, and that's okay, as long as Edward isn't hurt.

"He's not here," I tell Jake. "He'd come for me if he was," I hedge.

"He's fucking here," Jake snarls, turning me around and around again. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" he calls in a crazed, sing-song type voice.

"Did you see him on the monitors?" I ask as calmly as I can.

"He's here, he never leaves," Jake snaps at me.

"But did you actually see him?"

The reply I get is a painful one. He backhands me, making me spin of my own volition as the slap echoes around the empty room.

"He'll come out now," Jake chuckles as he grips my shoulder again. "She'll get another if you don't show yourself!" he shouts into the air.

"Don't do this," I beg Jake. "Don't come out," I shout to Edward, wherever he is.

Jake stares at me like I'm the one who's insane. Like I'm the one who's acting crazy. "He's here," he hisses right in my face. "But he aint coming out," he laughs. "He's a fucking coward. He aint gonna help you, Bells. He abandoned you before and after years of having to listen to you defend him he's gonna prove me right and abandon you again."

"He didn't," I whisper.

"What's that?" Jake asks snidely.

"He didn't abandon me," I shout.

This time the pain explodes across my cheek like fire. I fall to my knees with the force of the blow. He keeps striking the same cheek and I can feel it swelling.

"Then where was he, huh? Where's he been all these years? I was there for you, not him. I was there every day. Every damn day I was right there with you. I was the one who's protected you all these years, not him!" Jake screams into my face as I cower on the floor at his feet.

"Protected me from what?" I bellow back, ignoring the pain in my face and shoulder. "Turns out the only thing I needed protecting from was you."

"You ungrateful bitch," he hisses as he grabs me by the scruff of my neck and pulls me back to my feet. He holds me a little ways away from him as he barks into my face, his spit flying. "Everything I've done was for you! I'm not the one you need protecting from you stupid cow. It's him! It's always been him. He's a liar. He used you. He used you and then threw you away. Abandoned you and left you to rot. And you think it's me you need protecting from? I've been protecting you from him!"

He lets me go then and I take a big step backwards. There's fire in his eyes and he's licking his lips over and over but I refuse to back down.

With Emmett's words about Jake's anger ringing in my ears I square my shoulders and head right back into battle.

"You're the liar!" I argue on the top of my lungs, throwing my hands into the air. "He never used me. He didn't abandon me. It was you and Tanya who kept us apart. It was you and Tanya who wouldn't let me see him or talk to him. He didn't abandon me!"

"Tanya had a big mouth," he hisses before he begins to grin again. "I warned her to keep it shut," he says quietly, almost to himself, but I catch it. "But I've taken care of her. You don't need to worry about her anymore, baby," he says almost gently.

"What did you do to her?" I ask.

"Nothing that bitch didn't deserve," he grins evilly.

"You're a monster," I whisper as I stare at him.

His face contorts then and he really does look just like a monster. He takes a step forward and leans towards me a little and it takes everything I have not to back away from him. I don't. I stand my ground again.

"I cleaned up another mess for you," he says calmly. "Tanya had done her best keeping you away from him all these years but she was getting sloppy. Talking to the wrong people. Speaking about things she shouldn't. She had to be quieted, Bella. That's all. It's not a monstrous act to quiet someone. Not when you think of the harm she could've done to you.

"I was only thinking of you, baby. I'm always only ever thinking of you. She had to be made quiet, that's all. She was just another of your messes I had to tidy up."

"My messes?" I ask, astonished at the depths of his evilness.

"Yeah," he shrugged, as though the taking of a human life was all in a day's work for him. "You keep getting yourself into situations you can't get out of. But that's what I'm here for, baby. To get you out of them. That's why I'm here now.

"Come on. We can get past this. I'll finish this now, here, today, and we can go home and start again. I'll clean this last mess up for you and then we'll go. Together. Like it was meant to be."

I stare at him and I'm dumfounded. He's basically just admitted to killing Tanya and he wants me to go back to him to live happily ever after? Not happening I think to myself as I square my shoulders. "Get past this? You think we can get past this? You're out of your mind if you think I'm going anywhere with you, ever."

"Oh you will," he grins as he reaches for me, grabbing ahold of my collar and pulling my face up to his. "I'll finish this and then you'll see that we've always been meant to be together. He used you. Used you to feed his ego when you were too young to be anything other than a starry eyed fangirl. He used you then abandoned you when you needed him. But not me. I stayed. You'll understand one day," he finishes quietly before letting me go.

I stagger backwards a little and when I've regained my footing I go at him again. Buying time. Any time that I could in the hope that someone, anyone, would come. "_You_ used _him_ so I wouldn't ever find out the truth about _you_."

He stares at me for a long time then. "The truth about me is simple," he says calmly and for some reason his serenity scares me more than his rage. He believes what he's saying. "The truth is that I saved you from him. I rescued you from him when your dad died and he couldn't stand to be anywhere near you anymore. I took you in and loved you when he threw you away. I gave you everything he wouldn't. Tanya worked with me to keep you safe, that's all. So in her own way she was a help. But she's gone now and he's evil, Bella. A manipulator. He wanted to possess you. To own you. I saved you."

It's my turn to stare at him. He believes it. He believes what he's saying. It is written all over his face. "You lied to me," I argue.

"To spare you the real truth," he says softly, almost gently.

"You were there that day. I know the real truth. You cleaned up my father's murder that day and you never, ever told me. I begged you. I begged you to help me find out what really happened that day and you told me you couldn't find any information. You let me suffer. You kept me suffering. You're the liar. You're evil. _That's_ the truth."

"What was I supposed to tell you?" he shouts, his hands out, the gun dangling from his finger now. I've successfully roused his anger again and I really wanted to be pleased about that but the fire in his eyes frightened me. "Was I just supposed to come to you and tell you that I'd cleaned up your daddy's murder and that the guy you thought you were in love with was probably the one who killed him?"

I stumble backwards at that. "That's not true," I whisper.

"Bella, honey, it is. I'm sorry but it is," he says softly, stepping towards me and reaching for my hand again. I don't let him have it. "You were always too trusting. Too willing to see the best in people even when it was plain for everyone else to see that they were bad. I didn't want to hurt you like that so I lied. For you. I lied for you so you wouldn't spend your life thinking that someone you thought you loved had murdered your father.

"So yes. I cleaned up the mess. I'm always cleaning up your messes. I always have and I always will. Because I love you. I'll finish this. I'll get rid of him once and for all so he can never hurt you again."

**Edward POV**

I race towards the living room. He's got a gun, she's bloody and crying.

"Tell her the truth, Jake," I say as I go through the archway and towards where they are standing.

"I already have," Jake grins as he turns to me, the gun firmly in his grip and now pointed squarely at me.

"Noooooo," I say, drawing out the word to make my point. "You've told her another lie."

"You're the liar!" he roars, making her shiver at his side. "You killed her father and then discarded her like yesterday's news."

"Another lie," I say evenly.

"I've already told her I was there that day," Jake hedges but I'm not having it.

"After Tanya outed you no doubt," I say to Jake and then I turn a little so that I'm facing Bella. "I remember what happened that day now. It's crystal clear. He was there that day, that part's true. But he wasn't there to help me. He wasn't there to clean it up for Tanya. _He_ killed your father, Bella. He killed him by accident, that's partly true I guess. Because he was aiming for me. Weren't you, Jake?"

The pain is instant and I feel it before I hear the actual shot. It radiates outwards, exploding against my chest. I gasp for air but it's not coming, I can't breathe. The fire ignites as I go to the floor. I've fallen behind the sofa.

I can't see her. I can't see him.

Bella's screaming. Struggling with Jake to get to me. Begging him to let her come to me. Her screams ring in my ears.

"Say your goodbyes," Jake shouts over her and then she's there, kneeling beside me.

She's calling my name. Begging me to hang on. To breathe. To wait. To calm. To stay.

The darkness begins with her voice. It fades as she chants her love for me. She sounds further away, moving further and further away from me. Her touch is fading too. Her tear stained face is shimmering, the image blinking in and out as I gasp for breath.

And then she's gone completely.

**Bella POV**

His eyes close and I scream. I scream and scream and scream as I round on Jake.

"You've killed him! You've killed him!" I scream at him. "You've taken everyone I love away from me!"

"I should've done it sooner," he grins.

"Why? Why take them from me? Why take my dad?" I sob as I fall to my knees.

"I didn't take him from you!" Jake barks. "The stupid fucker practically killed himself! He was never the target. He wasn't supposed to actually take a fucking bullet for his mark. It's a saying. An ideal. Something bodyguards say but don't mean!"

"Why?" I ask again. "Why was Edward your target? What did he ever do to you?" I sob.

He's there then. In front of me. I stare at his shins as he speaks. "You wanted him," he says quietly. "You were dating me but you wanted him."

The simplicity of the statement makes me want to vomit.

I'm already on my knees, my heart is broken, I've got nothing left to live for and so the decision is an easy one. I look up into the eyes of the bastard who has stolen everyone I love from me. He's so calm, so callous, and so sure that he's done something wonderful for me.

"Do it," I say firmly.

"Do what?" he asks flatly.

"I'm not leaving here with you. I'm not leaving him. He's dead and I still won't leave him, Jake. I never loved you, I'll never love you. Ever. So just do it so I can be with him."

His roar makes me flinch. "You love me!" he booms.

"Never," I goad. "I loved Edward."

"You love me!" he screams as he lifts the gun and settles it at my forehead. "Say it," he roars.

I don't flinch this time. "I loved Edward. Only Edward." He doesn't scare me anymore. Edward's dead and I've nothing left to hang on for or to. "Do it," I almost beg. "I'm not leaving him even now. I don't love you. I never did. I won't leave him."

The sound of the shot is a comfort when it comes.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: My regular readers will know that I put a lot of time and effort into researching, and this chapter is no different, but there has been a tiny little bit of creative license taken with the medical situations in this chapter. **

**The procedures and injuries ring true, but the hospital set up, the doctors and nurses, the family members of the patients, and Emmett are given liberties not usually given in normal situations. That is my doing and is used for effect only. **

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><p><strong>Emmett POV<strong>

The shot is both the hardest and the easiest thing I've ever had to do. There's no time to think whether it's wrong or right. No choice to be made.

I plant my feet in the hall, square my shoulders, raise my hand and aim. My pistol has always felt comfortable in my hand and today is no different. The trigger has a groove worn in it from years of practise and it's now an extension of my arm. I use the groove to settle myself before firing the shot.

It's loud. Even for me and I'd been expecting it. But the room is so quiet and it makes even me startle.

They're fast, the consequences. So fast everything seems to happen at once with no time between what I can see is happening and what is happening from the result of my shot.

His body collapses like one of those toys you push up from underneath to make the legs give out and the body flop over. That's what his body does. It folds on itself, legs first, and then it topples over and lands in front of Bella.

Another shot, an unexpected one, echoes through the space and I blink rapidly to work out who fired it and from where.

The living room window explodes.

Jake had pulled his trigger as my shot entered his body. A reaction from the impact of my bullet. My shot had jerked his arm, thankfully, and the bullet meant for Bella's forehead has shattered the pane instead.

As the glass rains down I watch Bella intently. The scream that's been building inside her is let loose and it sounds like a siren. Long, agonised shrieks coming hard and fast one after the other as she takes in the scene in front of herself.

His blood is seeping from the wound now. Spreading outwards like a ruby fog. Inching its way towards her knees where she's still kneeling on the rug.

Her siren wail doesn't lessen as I go to her, lifting her under the arms and moving her away from the horror. I pull her to my chest, cradling her as best I can as I do the work for both of us and move her back into the hall and away.

I whisper that I've got her. That's she alright. I tell her gently that I'm there, that I'm Emmett, and that I won't hurt her.

I sit her on her ass on the cold tile floor of the foyer, the siren cry now filling the space by the front door.

She isn't going to let up and I wish I can spend the time to calm her but I can't. I know I only have a minute, or maybe even a few more seconds, before the whole house is going to be swarmed with cops and emergency people.

My mark is in the house somewhere and I have to find him.

Another wail joins the one Bella's making all on her own and I calm a little knowing it's the arrival of the authorities.

"Ed!" I shout, hoping to hear some type of reply. "Ed!" I shout again as I run to my office.

I switch screens over and over and over on the monitor there hoping to catch a glimpse of life in the house. The bunker is empty. The bedrooms all empty. Hallways and sitting room, the library and games room...all empty. And then, there, behind the sofa in the living room, I see him.

I run again. Desperate to get to my boy before my time's run out. I'm screaming his name, adding my own siren to the mess of them already reverberating around me.

I give no thought to the wrecked and ruined body on the living room floor as I run past it. That part of this saga is done now. Now I have to pick up the pieces.

"Ed!" I shout as I race to where he's lying on the edge of the rug face down.

I turn him over, hoping against hope that he's still breathing. I push him onto his back and am shocked to see that he's clean. There's no blood. Not a drop.

Oh sure, there's splatter from what used to be Jakes head on the wall but there's nothing on Ed. Nothing.

He's breathing. It's shallow and laboured.

I can hear the shouting now. The proper shouting. Not Bella's screams and my desperate pleas for Ed to open his eyes. But the shouting of cops and paramedics who have come to end this horror. They don't know yet that it's already done. The damage is already done and I'm sitting in the middle of it.

I add another shout to the cacophony that's building around me as I try to get a response from my boy. He's totally silent and I start to tear at his clothing to work out why.

I don't get far.

It's only another second or so before I'm pulled backwards and shoved aside.

I surrender my weapon to Frank. Or maybe it's Beans. I can't be sure because my head is swimming, my gut is churning and my eyes don't want me to see anything other than my boy.

There are paramedics all over then. Bella's still screaming but over it I hear a female voice attempting to calm her. The voice sounds official so I know she's in good hands.

I look to my left and see another uniform crouched down by Jakes body, feeling for a pulse I know he isn't going to be able to find. He calls it as I see it to his buddy who stands above him.

The guy who'd pulled me off my mark is shouting to his partner to bring a gurney and I start to panic. Had I missed something? Was he hit and I didn't find the entry point?

"Are you hurt?" I hear and I want to yell and tell the guy that it won't do him any good, that Ed's out for the count, but then I hear it again. "Are you hurt?"

I look up and see that it's me being asked the question. I shake my head but my answer isn't taken very seriously and I find myself being lowered to the floor carefully.

I stare up at the ceiling as my pulse is taken. Blue and red lights swirl and shimmer up there. There's no rhythm to it and there are so many.

A cuff is tugged up my arm and as it inflates I turn my head to the left and watch as my boy is slid onto a stretcher. There's a mask over his face and a brace around his neck already. There's no blood. No sign of any injury. But he's still out and there doesn't seem to be any visible reason for that. The paramedics are talking but I can't make out what they're saying over the loud shrill of the sirens that are still ricocheting around the space.

The cuff on my arm deflates and I hear my paramedic give the result to his partner but I don't take my eyes off my boy as they wheel him past me.

I catch a glimpse of dark, navy blue on his chest where the two halves of his shirt have been ripped open.

The realisation of what I'm seeing calms me even more than knowing he is breathing.

He'd been wearing a vest.

**Bella POV**

They keep asking me if I'm hurt but how do I tell them?

How do I say the words?

How do I explain that the pain I feel isn't physical? It's mental. It's not in my bones. Or in my blood. But it is in what's left of my heart.

They're dead. Seth. John. Jasper. Edward. My Edward. All dead. All gone.

"We'll have to wipe her down," someone huffs at my side.

I'm tugged and pulled, poked, prodded and scrubbed then. All over. Until it's clear that the only injuries I have are on my face and the one you can't see in my shoulder. The blood they wipe away from my skin isn't mine.

Its Seth's and Edward's. Its Jake's too.

They leave me alone for a minute and then they're back. I'm asked to shift so my clothing can be removed but I'm numb. Too numb to move. So it's done for me. I'm rolled while my t-shirt is cut off me. Rolled again and again as scissor slice through my jeans. A gown is pulled over my arms and then I'm rolled again so it can be tucked behind me.

Then its penlights in my eyes and rubber clad fingers poking my lip and eye. Someone holds my elbow while someone else rotates my shoulder. A hand runs over my scalp. Another dabs antiseptic on my cheek.

A doctor asks me questions that I don't answer. A nurse takes observations that I don't feel. The doctor asks me my name but I don't say. There is only one name bashing itself around my head and it's not mine.

They give up then. I hear them whispering a little ways away from the end of my bed. They must come to some decision because they leave. They leave me there. Alone. Alone with one name screaming itself in my brain.

A doctor comes back with Rosalie in tow. He stands at the end of my bed and explains that because she's known to me, is a registered therapist, and I have no family she's allowed to speak with me.

She's kind. She's soft and gentle and asks me simple questions to which I have no answers. I don't know my name. I only know one name and I give it to her. "Emmett," I croak.

"He can't come right now," is her reply before she asks if I know what the day or date is.

"Emmett," I say a little more loudly.

"He's at the police station," she tells me kindly, her voice low and understanding. She asks if I know how I got to the hospital. I only know one thing.

"Emmett," I shout.

"Soon," she tells me softly, patting the top of my hand carefully.

I don't know any of the answers to any of the questions she asks after that. She isn't disappointed or disapproving. She's just Rose. Soft and gentle and kind. She's patient but I'm not.

I demand to see him. I shout that he's the only one left. I yell that I need him. And still Rose is soft, quiet and gentle as she gets to her feet and presses the button above my head.

I know I'm upsetting her by screaming his name but I can't help it. It's all my brain knows. It's all my brain wants. It doesn't know me and what I've done. It doesn't know days, or dates, or times or circumstances. It just knows Emmett. It knows that Emmett is the only one alive.

"Emmett!" I bellow. "Emmett!" I roar, hoping to be heard. "Emmett!" I scream hoping that someone, anyone, can hear me and understand that there is only me and Emmett left.

I'm surrounded then. The room is full and I'm being pushed back onto the bed by another rubber clad hand and told to breathe deeply.

"Emmett!" I groan as the cold travels up my wrist and up my arm. "Emmett," I gasp as the blackness swallows me.

**Emmett POV**

It takes three hours. The longest three hours of my life to date.

I answer everything as calmly as I can. Precisely. With as much detail as I can recall. I know the drill.

Homer and Pete are patient with me, their questions asked with gentle respect and tolerance. They have the tapes. They have the video that has shown them the sequence of events at the house. They've talked to other people, other witnesses, they have more information than I do actually. They ask me more questions. They have me point to the screen to identify people and things, situations and occurrences.

I tell them everything. Everything they want to know I explain. Every detail they want I give them eagerly, wanting it to be over. It's a process they tell me sympathetically because they know and understand the desire I feel to run. To escape this part and to be with my boy and with the others. They know. They get it. They tell me so when I watch the part of the tape where Edward is shot.

But it takes three hours. Caius is beside me and the two detectives are thorough and as quick as they can. There's nothing they can tell me about the condition of my boy, or any of the others, because they've been in the interview room with me since I'd been brought in.

I've got the jitters bad by the time they're done and it's not just in my hands. And it's got nothing to do with having just ended a life and everything to do with not knowing who'd lived and who'd succumbed.

Caius is speaking quickly into his cell when I emerge from the station. He gives me quick details about everyone's whereabouts and then he shoves me into his car.

We head for the hospital. He avoids going by the house where we both know the cops are still working. The detour takes longer but I get it and I'm grateful.

The press line the street when we pull up. I tell Caius to go, to leave me there and to go and do what he needs to do but he ignores me and parks by the emergency room doors, off to the side where a cop slides a pass under his windshield wiper before escorting us both through the front doors.

The place is packed to the gills. It's Saturday, late afternoon, and the emergency room is full of people needing help to deal with their problems.

Caius asks where we should go after giving Ed's name to the nurse at the desk. I don't hear her reply but Caius takes my arm and leads me into the bowels of the building. We take an elevator up but if anyone asked I wouldn't be able to tell them to what floor.

I can still hear Bella's screams as they mixed with the ambulance and police sirens and my ears are ringing as we ride the car up. The white walls and floors dazzle me as we walk. The place isn't quiet, no hospital ever is, but the noise is like a dull hum in my head as we go. No one sound is distinguishable from another, just white noise in my head.

Caius must know where he's going because he guides me with a deft hand on my arm. I let him. I'm beyond making decisions for myself right then. The urge to run is strong but not knowing where I should run to keeps me moving along and keeping pace with my lawyer.

I see Carlisle and Esme first. They're huddled together on a long row of seats against some windows. I rush towards them. Esme is shaking as hard as I am though Carlisle seems a little calmer.

We speak quickly and quietly and I'm desperate for news about their son's condition. My legs almost give out when they say there isn't any yet.

I hold back from shouting that it's been three fucking hours as I watch Esme's bottom lip begin to quiver. I pat her hand and give Carlisle's a shake in support.

They start to thank me but it's too much. I don't want it, their thanks. I'd failed them, and their son, and I knew it. That I'd gotten to the house in time to stop another tragedy had been luck, not careful planning and not something I wanted thanks for.

Caius grips my forearm again as I leave them and he guides me to a waiting room filled with people. Alice is on her feet and running to me as soon as I've gotten in the door. I hold her hard, letting her say what she feels as my arms keep her steady. She's trembling and is so small in my arms. And she's angry. So fucking angry. Hissing and spitting with rage as she sobs against my chest.

I take it all in, knowing it's my fault that she's hurting the way she is.

I give her back to Sam when Leah comes into the room. She's angry too. She's hurt and confused and so fucking scared that her usual bitchy 'I can handle anything' attitude is forgotten as she cries into my neck for her poor brother.

I take that in too. I put her little brother in harm's way and I'll wear that forever now.

Everyone is there, the whole team, so when I spot the blonde head of hair at the far end of the room I put Leah into Jared's hands with one last pat to her back.

She's sobbing into her knees that she's got drawn up while she's sitting sideways on a hard backed plastic chair. I sit behind her, or beside her depending on how you saw it, and put a hand to her back. She flinches and lets her knees go. She turns to me, her beautiful blue eyes swimming with tears, her bottom lip quivering in anguish.

"Oh Em," she whimpers as I pull her to me.

"Shhh, Rosie, its okay," I tell her as I stroke her back and shoulders.

She pulls away almost immediately and when she looks up at me her eyes are fierce. She runs her hands over my face, my chest, down each arm. She squeezes my hands and pats down my hair. She checks me over from head to toe. She stands and drags me up with her and I let her. She needs this. She needs to see for herself that I'm alright.

She moves around me quickly, looking me over again. When she's done, when she's sure, she throws herself at me. I catch her around the waist and hang on tightly. For her and for myself.

"I'm okay," I tell her softly as she tucks her face into the curve of my neck. "I'm alright."

She's rambling then. Sobbing between words. "I heard the shots...they wouldn't let me...and then you didn't come out and I thought...but they took me away...oh Em," she sobs.

As garbled as she is I understand every word. She'd arrived at the house at the same time I had, ready for her session with Ed. We'd both seen the body at the gatehouse and I'd insisted she stay put while I went through the gates.

It had been my cab driver who'd called the ambulance even though we'd all known it would be futile for John. It had been a clean headshot at close range; he'd never stood a chance. The only comfort for his family would be that he didn't suffer. It had been too quick for him to suffer.

When I'd found Jasper gasping for breath and bloodied in the driveway I'd shouted for Rose to call another ambulance. She made the call, as she'd run towards where I stood with Jasper, and it was Rosie who'd kept the pressure on his shoulder wound while I'd gone inside at the sound of Bella's screams.

I knew she'd have been escorted away to a safe distance as soon as the cops arrived and I also knew she wouldn't have been told jack squat about how I'd fared inside the house.

She'd gone three hours without knowing so I let her sob a little longer before pulling away gently. "I'm okay, truly," I tell her earnestly. "Do you know who I should talk to about the others?" I ask.

"They're still in surgery. There isn't anything to learn yet," she tells me as she begins to dry her eyes on her sleeve. "They'll only tell family when the time comes anyway," she sniffs. "Bella's been asleep for a while but with no family..." she trails off.

"I'm her family," I say without having to think about it.

"I know," Rosie tells me softly as she rubs my bicep. "What I meant was, there isn't anyone here waiting for news about Bella and before they sedated her she was screaming for you."

I take that in as well. Rosie's anguish and Bella's screams. They're still echoing around in my head from back at the house and now I can hear her fresh ones from inside one of the hospital rooms too. It's imaginary but feels real as Rose leads me out of the waiting room.

"She'll probably still be in shock," she warns, her hand on the door. "She was disoriented and unable to answer simple test questions so prepare yourself for that if she's still the same now."

I nod but say nothing as we go into the room.

My first thought is that she looks small. Very small curled up on her side in the bed.

There are leads and wires coming out from under the covers that are tucked up under her chin and I take a moment to look at the monitors beside the bed as they beep and whir.

"Her shoulder has been wrenched but they're sure it's just bruised," Rosie tells me as she reads from the chart at the foot of the bed. "Her eye reacted to light under all that bruising and swelling. Her lip will heal without the need for stitches."

"Good," is all I can say as I take the tiny hand that is hanging off the side of the bed into mine. "Are all the beeps as they should be?" I ask, never taking my eyes off Bella's swollen and battered face.

"Yeah," Rosie sighs. "All her observations have been normal so far. She's only been given something light so she'll wake up very soon. I'll leave you to it for a bit and go and check on the Masens. Press the big red button there above her head if you need help."

I nod but don't speak as she slips out of the room.

"Oh sweetheart," I whisper as I lay my head down on top of her hand. "I'm so, so fucking sorry."

Her soft, raspy whisper woke me later. I had no idea how long I'd been asleep against the side of her bed but the fuzziness in my head told me I had been.

"Em?" she whispered again as I sat up fully.

"I'm here," I tell her as I scrub at my face with one hand and squeeze hers with my other. The come down from an adrenalin rush was a bitch to wade through.

She's quiet for a moment, just staring at me as she lies on her side, peering at me through one puffy, red rimmed eye and one swollen black one. I'm about to ask how she's feeling when she sits up abruptly.

"You shot him," she gasps as she starts pulling at the wires at her wrist.

"You bet your ass I did," I tell her as I close my fingers around her hand to still her as the monitors go nuts from being disconnected.

"You fucking shot him," she shouts as she digs her nails into my hand, making me jump back at the sharp pain and the even sharper tone of her voice. Her legs are over the side of the bed in the next second and before I can protest and tell her to get back into the bed she's on me.

She's screaming – even louder than she had been back at the house – and punching my chest with both fists. "You fucking killed him! You fucking killed him!" she screams over and over.

I'm too far away from the red button Rosie pointed out so I go for damage control on my own. I try to grip her wrists gently to get her to stop pounding on me but she's fast and she's strong and...wired.

And still she screams. "You fucking killed him!"

"I fucking had to!" I roar down into her face, hoping to stun her out of her rage.

She doesn't even slow. Not her fists as she fights me for control of them. Not the screaming, not the rage. "I hate you! I fucking hate you!" she hisses. "You shot him and I hate you!"

"I had to!" I bellow at her. "He had a fucking gun to your head. I had to!"

"You robbed me!" she shouts as she fights me.

I don't get it. I don't understand her. Shock I understand. Panic I understand. Pain and anguish and fear I understand but this I don't get. She's pissed at me for killing Jake? What the ever lovin' fuck?

I push her then. Hard. I push her away so that she can't claw at my chest and face anymore and once she's got her ass up against the side of the bed I shout her name and demand she look me in the eye from where she is.

"You robbed me," she says, whispering it this time. She's not calm, not by a long shot, but the fights gone out of her now.

"Of what? Of Jake? Are you telling me, after all this, that you're angry with me for killing your ex husband?" I plead. "What exactly did I rob you of?" I demand.

"Of peace," she sobs as she collapses to the floor. "You robbed me of peace. You took away my chance to be with Edward forever and I hate you."

I go to her right away. I reach for her but she bats my hands away fiercely as she sobs and shakes on the floor.

"Leave me alone," she hisses as I try again to reach for her. "I just wanted to be with him," she snarls, lifting her face to me as I hover over her. "I just wanted to be with him and now I'll be alone forever. I'll have to spend my whole life without him now," she sobs.

I'm so lost. Half of me wants to rush to the head of the bed and push the red button because she's delusional; the other half wants to pull her to her feet and demand to know what the fuck she means. I settle for something in the middle.

I sink to the floor beside her and pull her – batting her hands away from me as she fights – until she's sitting in my lap on the cold, hard floor. I still her arms by wrapping mine around her. I let her cry for a good long while and when her sobs start to stretch out I loosen my grip and tuck her head up until my chin.

"Tell me what's going on in your head," I whisper against her hair. She shakes her head but I insist. "No. You don't get to say nothing. Not after what's just gone on in here. So you tell me, sweetheart, you tell me what this is all about."

"You killed him," she whimpers, her shoulders shaking as she begins to cry again.

"I had to, sweetheart," I coo against the top of her head. "I'm sorry if you think that was the wrong choice, but I don't. I couldn't let him shoot you. I couldn't. And he deserved to die."

"I know all that," she says on a choked cough.

I'm even more confused now. "If you know that why are you so angry with me for shooting him?"

Her answer takes an age but once she gives it to me I feel a calmness come over me that hadn't been inside me for weeks.

"He killed Edward. He took him away from me. I wanted him to kill me too, Em, so that I could be with Edward forever and you took that away from me."

"Oh sweetheart," I croon as I hug her hard. "You've got it all wrong. All wrong," I tell her. "Edward's not dead. He was wearing a vest."

**Bella POV**

He has to tell me twice more before it sinks in.

And even then I don't believe him. Not truly. I'd watched the bullet hit him in the chest. I'd watched him go down. I'd been at his side when his eyes closed.

But Em keeps telling me. Over and over.

Edward's alive. He'd been wearing a vest. He's alive. The vest saved his life.

I'm out of his lap and on my feet as soon as my brain clicks that he's not lying, that he's never lied to me, even when he probably should have to stop me from freaking out. Emmett doesn't lie.

"I want to see him," I shout as I pull the gown around myself, trying to close the gap at the back so I'll be respectable when we leave to go to Edward.

Em gets to his feet and runs a hand through his hair, just like Edward does when he's nervous. "He was still in surgery when I came in here. I don't know if he can have visitors yet," he says without looking at me.

"Surgery?" I shout. "But you said. You told me he was...surgery?"

"He was wearing a vest. I promise. I swear it to you. I saw it for myself before the paramedics took him away," he tells me as he crosses the room and takes my shaking hands into his huge ones. "And I swear to you that he was breathing on his own when they brought him in, but, he was shot at close range, Bella. And while it's true that a silencer slows the bullet down a little bit, and the vest took the brunt of the hit, he's still injured.

"They call it Behind Armour Blunt Trauma. There's no blood and no hole but the pieces of the vest itself get embedded in the skin and they have to be removed in surgery under anaesthesia," he says as he walks me back to the edge of the bed.

I sit on it, my legs unable to hold me up any longer. "Surgery," I say to myself.

"It'll be quick," he reassures. "He's probably already out. Probably in recovery right now. But he's going to be okay, sweetheart."

Something about what he's told me has me shooting my eyes up to his. "Seth wasn't wearing a vest, was he?" I ask as the tears fill my eyes again.

"No, sweetheart, he wasn't," Em grimaces. "I don't have any information about him yet, but the doctors are doing everything they can for him."

"He's alive?" I shout, getting to my feet again. "He was alive when they brought him in?"

"That's what I was told, yeah," Em tells me with a small smile.

"What about Jasper?"

"Wearing a vest too," he grins. "He's in surgery too, but he'll be longer than Ed. The shoulder shot was through and through so that'll take a bit to repair. But the chest shot is like Ed's, just a cleanup needed," he tells me as he pushes me by the shoulders so my ass is up against the bed again. "And you're not going anywhere so you may as well get back into that bed."

I do as he says but I don't like it. My guys are all here somewhere and I want to see them. I want to know how they're doing. "John? The guard at the gatehouse?" I ask but I know the answer long before Em gives it to me.

"He's gone, Bell's," he says on a sigh as he drags the chair back to the side of the bed. He takes my hand back into his as I lie back against the pillows and let the tears come. "Even if he'd been wearing a vest..." he trails off and I know.

I already know. It had been a head shot. I'd seen it happen. Right there in front of me. But I'd hoped, I'd always hoped that there might have been...I had hoped.

I don't close my eyes. I can't. I don't want to see John fall to the ground behind my eyelids. I can't handle the memory of Seth clutching at his stomach; I don't want to see Jasper go down in the driveway again. And Edward...my Edward...falling to the floor behind the sofa clutching at his chest. Desperate for breath that I thought would never come for him again.

"It was Jake," I say quietly, just in case he didn't already know.

"Yeah," he sighs with a squeeze of my hand. His cell phone begins to chime but after looking at the screen he silences the call and squeezes my hand again. "I've gotta go and talk to the police again for a bit."

"I want to see the others," I tell him firmly.

"You know you can't but that doesn't mean you can't have visitors. Tell me who you want and I'll send them in," he says as he gets to his feet, wiping at his eyes.

I think about asking to see Esme and Carlisle but I can't. I'm the reason their son is in surgery right now. Same goes for Alice, it's my fault her Jasper is hurt. Leah won't want to see me and I don't blame her. There isn't anyone I want to see before I get the chance to say sorry to the guys personally.

"Nobody," I tell him as calmly as I can.

"I don't want you staying in here on your own, not right now," he counters.

"Nobody," I tell him as I roll over, away from him, and pull the covers up and over my head.

He says nothing more. All I hear are the sounds of his shoes and then the click of the door as it closes behind him.

Barely a minute later I hear the door swoosh open again and then the hushed voices of Edward's parents. I stay under the covers. They stop talking after a little bit and then the room is filled with only the weight of my guilt.

**Emmett POV**

I hadn't had to look too far to find Ed's parents. They were right where I'd last left them, sitting in the hard, uncomfortable chairs outside the recovery suite.

"Any news?" I ask as I go towards them. The simultaneous shake of their heads makes my gut twist. Again. "Bella's up and awake. She says she doesn't want to see anyone but I don't want her left alone and I need to go and..."

"We'll go," Carlisle says as they both get to their feet.

"Are you alright, dear?" Esme asks me quietly.

"I'm fine," I assure her though I'm sure she can see the lie as well as hear it in my quavering voice.

Thankfully they both let it drop and as they walk away in the direction of Bella's room I hear Carlisle reassure his wife that he'd let the nurses know where they were if there was any news on their son.

I watch them enter Bella's room and hope that she opens up to them.

I take a deep breath then and it feels like the first clean one I'd taken in hours, maybe days. The threat to my people was over now but the tension and anxiety remained.

I'd totally lost control of the situation back at the house the instant I'd instructed Jasper to let the days plans unfold as we'd planned previously. This was all on me. All of it. Every injury – and the two deaths – were all on me and I felt it. It was heavy. A tangible weight that had settled on me in the hours since I'd listened to Jasper's frantic phone message and then heard the distinct chime of Bella's personal alarm coming from my cell.

I look around the waiting area and wonder who I can help. Would any of them let me try I think as I look over Alice' hunched form, then Leah's. Paul and Jared were talking quietly with one of the cops who had come to take statements. The other boys are all talking amongst themselves off to one side of the small area.

Rose is nowhere to be seen and I'm left standing on my own just staring at the group and wondering what the hell would come next.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and spin around quickly, my fists coming up to defend myself without thought.

"Whoa," Caius says quickly, stepping away. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay. Sorry," I tell him sheepishly. "I'm a bit...yeah," I trail off.

"To be expected," he nods. "Listen, I've got a quiet room set up for you one floor down for when you need it. It's room three-oh-seven. I've got to go for a bit but you call me if you need anything, right?" he asks.

I tell him thank you and try to keep how pathetically grateful for his intuition I am out of my voice as I say it. We shake hands and I thank him again for his appearance at the station twice in the one day and at such short notice. He says it's what I pay him for but I know it's more than that. He's a good guy and he'd always been good to me. More friend than lawyer. I thank him again and as I watch him leave I realise that I am going to need the room he's organised for me.

There's a lot to do even though half the people I need to do it for aren't up and about yet.

I might not have been able to control what had happened today but I sure as hell could control the fall out.

I take one last look at the crowd in the waiting room. I wait until Sam lifts his eyes to mine and then I give him a chin lift to ask if he needs anything. He shakes his head minutely and I nod to show I've seen it.

I make my way down to the third floor and locate room 307. It's just a plain, blank space with a single table, a few chairs and a phone but it's perfect for what I need.

I dial the number I need from memory and wait as it rings.

"Aro, there's been an incident," I say as soon as the call is answered.

"I'm downstairs. The press conference is set for six o'clock. I've got it all covered," he tells me matter of factly.

I sigh in relief. I want to know who'd called him, what he knew and how, but it suddenly doesn't feel very important so I settle for a very heartfelt thank you. He tells me to piss off, to do what I've got to do and to call him the instant I have some news about the condition of my people.

I leave him to do what he's good at.

My next call takes a little longer to answer.

"Garrett," I sigh when it does. "I've got trouble."

"I'm heading your way now," he tells me matter of factly and once again I'm grateful that my brother doesn't need a thousand words where five will suffice.

"Mom?" I ask.

"With me. Three hours tops," he informs me.

"Don't go to the house," I tell him.

"Aro's got us covered. Three hours. Hang in til we get there, bro," he says.

"I will. And thanks," I tell him before ending the call.

Everyone seemed to know and they all seemed to be thinking far more clearly than I am I think as I stare at the phone wondering what I should do next. I'm relieved of the burden of my indecision when the door opens and Rose comes in. She looks tired. Worn out really and I wonder if I look the same.

"What do you need?" she asks right away.

"Answers," I tell her straight up. "First I need to know how my boys are doing."

"I don't know if I can find that out," she sighs. "I'm not a relative of any of them. I don't know if they'll tell me anything."

"You've got privileges at this hospital, right?" I beg.

"I do. But not for these patients," she says with a shake of her head.

"Will you please try? Please? I want to be able to tell the others something. Anything," I beg.

She gives me a small smile and puts her hand to my forearm. "I'll do what I can," she concedes. "I don't want you to get angry if they won't tell me though. Its policy and I don't know if the powers that be will break that rule just for me. Or for you."

"I'll take what I can get," I tell her as I put my hand over hers. "There are other ways to get what I want if this doesn't work," I tell her with as much of a grin as I can muster.

"Charm?" she asks, eyebrows raised. I shake my head and she grins. "Where's your weapon?" she asks, her thoughts obviously going where mine had.

"Don't worry," I scoff, "the cops took it to match to the hole in Jake's head. I'm not packin' right now."

She shudders a little and I think my attempt at levity has been a gross misjudgment but then she grins just a little. "I want you to know, no matter what, I think you did the right thing today."

I don't know what to say. None of it has really sunk in yet. So rather than reply I pull her to me and hold her hard up against my chest.

The knock at the door makes us step apart but I know that, for right now, it's better that other people believe that our connection is purely professional. At least for a little while longer I think as Homer and Pete come into the room.

"I'll call you, or come up here, as soon as I know something," Rosie tells me as she slips out the door.

"Any news on your boys yet?" Homer asks as he takes a seat at the table.

"They're alive. That's all I know for now," I tell him as I wave a hand for Pete to sit as I do. "Do you have the information I asked for?"

"Right here," Pete says as he slides a typed page across the table to me.

I read it through once and then close my eyes. "I really appreciate this. I know it's not protocol," I tell them both.

"Maybe not protocol, but it's a good thing all the same. They already know and a uniform is there with them now but it'll be a comfort for them to hear from you. We'll leave you to make the call," he says as the both get to their feet again. "We'll be in the waiting room when you're ready."

I nod to show I'd heard and then I take up the handset on the phone. I read the names of John's parents once more as I dial the number. "Mr and Mrs Bauer, my name's Emmett McCarty and I'm so sorry for your loss..."

**Bella POV**

"We know you're tired, we'll let you rest. We'll be outside, just down the hall in the recovery suite's waiting room," Esme says softly as she uses gentle fingers to push a strand of hair off my face.

I don't say anything. I haven't said a word to either of them since they'd come in after Emmett left. They'd been quiet too, at first.

After a little while they probably figured I was asleep so they began to talk in whispers, but I could hear them none the less. They talked about things I didn't want to know. How frightened they'd been when Alice got the call from Jasper about my alarm. How awful the drive back to town had been because they didn't know what was happening. Esme made quiet mention of how horrible it had been to be directed to the hospital, rather than the house, as they'd gotten closer and Carlisle had commented how fearful he'd been to learn that there were multiple casualties.

And worst of all was hearing how grateful they were that I was alright.

I count to one hundred once they're gone. I count another fifty before I'm sure nobody else is going to come into the room and then I'm out of the bed and on my feet, tugging the gown closed at my back again.

I take the heart monitor off my finger and let it fall onto the bed. I tug the blood pressure cuff off my arm and let it dangle by the machine that is now squealing its head off because I've removed it.

I press all the buttons on it in turn but nothing shuts it up so I yank the plug out of the wall. That does the trick and the room is blessedly quiet again.

I listen at the door and when I think the coast is clear I open it and peer out. There are people in the corridor but none that I recognise. I slip out of the room and look both ways. My feet are bare so I make hardly any sound at all as I make my way to the waiting room.

They're all there, everyone I expect to see are all there. They nod to me in turn as I make my way through the room to a row of empty chairs at the back. They acknowledge me, sure, but nobody speaks and I think that's just as well as I sink into the last chair in the last row.

The silence feels like an accusation, and maybe it is. After all, I'm the reason everyone is here. A few short weeks ago they'd all been going about their business happily.

But I hadn't been happy. I'd been miserable. Miserable and angry, confused and hurt. And then I'd scaled the fence and set all this into motion.

I've got questions. Hundreds of them floating around in my head dying for the chance to come out but I can't ask them. I want to know if Alice is alright and if she's got someone coming to be with her. I want to know if Sam's wife is coming to be with him soon. I want to know if Leah has called her parents and I want to ask if Jasper even has any parents. I want to know but I can't ask.

I study the room looking for answers without having to ask them.

By the window a doctor is speaking with a nurse and they are both writing notes on a clipboard, glancing over at me before making more notes and saying things I can't and don't want to hear in hushed voices.

Alice is crouched on a chair at the furthest point away from me. Sam sits to her right but they don't speak now, not since I've come into the room. She looks tiny. Fragile. Compared to Sam's huge frame she looks like a little girl and she probably feels like one right now because I sure do.

Since the nod as I'd entered neither of them has looked at me. Not once. I don't blame them at all. I did this. They shouldn't look at me.

A policeman comes into the room and heads right to Sam. He crouches in front of him and they speak quickly and quietly. The cop leaves seconds later and Sam returns his stare to the opposite wall. Alice hasn't looked at anything other than her hands the whole time I've been there.

They shouldn't look at me.

A doctor in scrubs comes through the door and immediately everyone holds their breath. He asks for Leah and as he takes her aside and begins whispering the others sigh heavily and return to their positions. Nobody speaks. Nobody looks at me. And they shouldn't.

As quickly as he arrives the doctor leaves, Leah following in his wake, and I find myself thinking that's good. They shouldn't tell me what's going on. I don't deserve to know.

After a few minutes Sam gets to his feet and joins Jared and the one I think is named Embry on the other side of the room. They speak in hushed tones as Sam shows them something on his cell phone screen. There's a lot of nodding and a few hand gestures and then Sam returns to his place beside Alice. He puts his arm on the back of her chair and I watch as he gives her shoulder a squeeze before he goes back to staring at the wall again.

I slip further down into the uncomfortable plastic chair and keep my eyes on the door. It's only another few minutes before another doctor in scrubs sticks his head into the room and asks for the relatives of Mr Whitlock.

"His parents are still travelling to get here," Alice says in a tiny, choked whisper as she meets the doctor in the doorway, Sam close on her heels.

I'm happy that Jasper has family and that they're on their way. But I'm also worried that Alice' family aren't here to be with her. I want to comfort her but I can't. I shouldn't. She'd never accept that from me now anyway I think as I watch her nod along with whatever news the doctor is giving her.

The conversation is short and when the doctor moves away from the door Alice and Sam follow him out. They don't tell me anything and I don't deserve to hear it anyway. They don't turn as they leave. They don't look at me and they shouldn't.

A dark haired woman with olive skin comes in next. She's agitated as she pokes her head in the door but the instant she sees the two guys in the opposite corner she puts a hand to her mouth and rushes to them. They hug her in turn and I hear that her name is Emily. She's Sam's wife. The three of them speak hurriedly as they leave the room together, probably to go find Sam, none of them giving me a look as they leave.

And that's as it should be I think as I watch them go.

They shouldn't look at me.

I'm poison. Toxic. Noxious.

And I'm alone.

**Edward POV**

I wake to soft, warm hands and a gentle voice telling me to breathe carefully.

I don't understand the instruction because breathing has never been something I've needed instruction to achieve before.

A few seconds later I understand the direction.

My chest is on fire. A burning ache radiates outwards, covering the whole of my upper body. I groan and the movement intensifies the ache to the point that I see stars behind my eyes.

"Shhh," the gentle voice coos at my side. "Don't try to speak. You're safe here. You're safe and you're going to be just fine. Just lie still and breathe carefully now."

I do as I'm told without needing the coaching. If opening my mouth and attempting to speak is going to cause the explosion of pain then I know to do as I'm told and just lie still.

Something cold begins to spread through my hand. It travels beyond my wrist and up to my bicep, causing another kind of ache. I feel it warm a little before I lose concentration and the overwhelming need to sleep overtakes me.

* * *

><p>I wake up quickly. I know exactly where I am and why. There's no fog in my head for the first time in years and I'm grateful.<p>

I can hear that I'm not alone in the room too. Feet are shuffling. Papers are being turned. My mother's voice is soft as she speaks to my left. There is a slow, rhythmic beeping to my right.

"Is she alive?" I ask as I open my eyes.

My mother is there then, leaning over me, tears brimming over as she smiles at me. "Welcome back," she says softly but it's not what I want to hear.

"Is she alive?" I ask again as I attempt to sit up.

"Lie still, darling," my mother croons as my father joins her at my bedside.

"Tell me!" I try and shout but the pain in my chest won't let me so instead of the forceful sound I want to make it comes out more like a gasp and a croak.

"She's fine," dad tells me, finally. "How are you feeling?" he asks me.

"Bella," I croak again as I tug my hand out of my mothers.

"Go and fetch a nurse," my mom tells my dad. "Lie still, darling, you're only just back from surgery."

"Bella," I groan as I put both hands under myself and push up. The pain is excruciating but I find I don't care. "Bella," I croak again as my mother puts her hand to my shoulder.

"I'll get her. I'll get her if you lie back down," she tells me as her tears spill over her cheeks.

"Bella," I grunt as I lower myself back to the pillows.

"I'll get her," mom promises as she rushes from the room.

The wait seems unbearable. The only sounds in the room are the heart monitor that is going berserk because of my pain and my own gasps for breath.

When the door opens I look up and expect Bella but it's not. It's my dad and a nurse who is quickly at my side and begging me to calm down, to lie still, and to take shallow breaths.

"Bella," I pant through the pain.

"Can't you give him something?" my dad asks in a rush.

"Only a doctor can," the nurse tells him curtly. "Lay still Mr Cullen. You have to lie still and get your breathing under control or we'll have to sedate you again," she says to me before turning to my dad. "You were warned that he might wake disoriented."

"Bella. Now," I tell my dad who is staring at me through glassy eyes. I'm not disoriented, I'm determined.

Dad nods just once and then flees the room. I want to tell him that mom's already gone to get her but I can't get the words out against the pain. The nurse is fiddling with the monitors at my side and the sound of the beeping is getting on my nerves.

"Get out," I manage to grunt.

"Mr Cullen," she huffs as she adjusts the blood pressure cuff on my arm.

"Masen," I cough, making my pain skyrocket so high I have to close my eyes and hold very still until the white hot needles are finished skewering me through the chest.

"Alright Mr _Masen_, calm down, breathe shallowly," she says, not shifting from beside me one inch.

I'm about to tell her to get the fuck out when the door opens again. Its mom, then dad and then Bella. The monitor goes crazy when I get a look at her all banged up.

The nurse is huffing and saying something about having to insist on no visitors if I can't control my breathing for myself. Mom's telling her to shut up. Dad's telling her to get out. And after she's made one more huff she leaves, promising to return very soon with a doctor in tow.

Then it's just the four of us.

Bella's tears start before anyone has uttered a word. "I'm so sorry..." she begins, but she can't finish.

"We'll head the doctor off," dad says as he reaches for mom's hand and tugs her to the door.

We stare at each other for the longest time, the beeping of the heart monitor doing its thing beside me, my shallow gasping breaths and Bella's sniffing are the only sounds in the room.

I swallow thickly before asking her to come sit by me in a rasping voice. She does and I ache at her hesitation to take the hand I offer her. She does, eventually, but I can see the mental conflict going on behind her eyes as she takes my hand.

"Jake killed your dad," I tell her as I pant through the fire in my chest, wanting to at least ease the pain of not knowing for her finally.

"I know," she whispers, her eyes cast down at her lap.

I take a second to wonder how she knows but find I just don't care anymore. That she now knows the truth is enough I think as I try to draw in more oxygen so I can speak again. "Accident," is all I can get out before the pain takes my breath away.

Her eyes find mine then. Well, her one good eye finds mine and I assume that the one hiding beneath the swelling and bruising would be staring at me too if it could. "It wasn't an accident. He confessed," she says softly.

She's misunderstood and I hope it can keep it simple enough to explain it because the heart monitor is going nuts and the pain in my chest is getting worse with each word I manage to get out. "Aiming for me," I tell her simply.

"I know that," she whispers. "He told me that."

"Charlie saved me," I manage before I have to close my eyes and pant through the agony again.

"I know that too," she tells me as she stands.

I want to tell her to stay, to sit back down, beg her not to leave me but I can't. It hurts so badly to even breathe that the idea of begging her is beyond me right then. Instead I squeeze her hand hard and keep squeezing it over and over in the hope of making myself understood.

She drops my hand and I make a grunting sound of displeasure but she shushes me instantly.

I watch, relieved, as she hikes up the hospital gown she's wearing and climbs up onto the bed beside me. There's very little room as I'm lying right in the centre but she doesn't seem to care as she lies down against my side.

She curls up there, waits for me to lift my arm high enough for her to burrow into my side a little more and then she closes her eyes and sighs deeply. "I love you but you need to sleep," she whispers softly as I lower my arm to her shoulder and close my eyes too.

**Alice POV**

I watch the monitor and count the beats of his heart even though the screen has a flashing green digital display that tells me the number per minute. It's steady. The nurse has told me it's a little fast but that steady is good. So I keep counting.

He's very still. Very pale. His hair is matted to his forehead and he's bruised up the side of his neck and down his arm but he's absolutely beautiful still.

The beeping of the monitor speeds up as he wakes. I'm on my feet right away and leaning over him, brushing that pale blonde mane back, as his eyes open.

"Hey there," I whisper as he comes around.

"Is my mark alive?" he asks though it's barely a whisper and it obviously causes him a great deal of pain to get it past his lips.

"He's alive and almost well," I tell him, laughing lightly at his need to protect Edward even as he comes out of anaesthesia. "He fared better than you actually. He got one in the chest but my brilliant boyfriend was thinking on his feet and left a vest for him."

"Jake," he grunts before closing his eyes tightly and breathing through his nose to stave off the pain.

"Dead by Emmett's hand," I tell him matter of factly. I wanted that out of the way right off. "If it wasn't for the vest you put on you wouldn't be here right now either."

His lips turn up but he doesn't actually laugh. I can see that he wants to, but the pain in his chest and shoulder is too great to try. "I put Bella's on," he gasps through gritted teeth. "If the second slug was any lower I'd have two navels."

I do laugh then. It's a relieved kind of laugh and probably sounds a bit maniacal but I don't care. I'm relieved that he's alive and that he's only come away with a clean through and through bullet hole in his shoulder and a small wound from the Kevlar embedded in his chest. The rest is swelling and bruising and would subside fast, so the doctor tells me.

"If you're joking around I know you're going to be just fine," I tell him as I kiss his forehead.

"Parents," he croaks.

"On their way," I'm happy to report.

"Scar will freak mom out," he grunts.

"Shhh," I tell him, grinning down at him. "She'll just be happy you're going to be okay. Don't worry about the scar."

"Chicks dig scars, right?" he grins but I can see the misery in his eyes and can hear the catch in his voice because he's trying to hold a conversation when he should be asleep and letting his body repair itself.

"Yeah chicks dig scars," I whisper as his eyes close.

"Something to tell the grandkids," he manages to get out before he succumbs to the healing power of rest. And the massive dose of morphine the machine at his side has just given him.

**Leah POV**

Mom is quiet and as white as a sheet as the surgeon walks towards us.

"Mrs Clearwater?" he asks and when she nods he sits down by us and turns so that he can speak to us both. "Your son did well," he tells us right away, making mom start sobbing. I let out the breath I felt like I'd been holding in for hours while we waited for news.

"Can we see him?" mom asks around her crying and sniffing.

"Soon," he says with a small smile. "He's being moved to the ICU as we speak."

"ICU?" mom asks as her shakes make a comeback.

"It's necessary I'm afraid," he says gently.

"How long will he have to be there?" I ask when it looks like mom can't.

"Around a week or so," he tells me, giving mom a chance to gather herself before he dives in with more information. "Intensive care doesn't always mean a critical patient," he explains slowly. "Sometimes the things we have to do to keep the patient stable enough to complete a surgery means they need some extra care after the operation, that's all. And for Seth that's exactly what he's going to need."

"Will he be okay after that?" mom asks.

"I doubt you've been given much information so let's start at the beginning," he says patiently. "Seth was unconscious when he was brought in and he'd lost a lot of blood so his pressure dropped very quickly. That meant the trauma team in emergency had to put a tube in his throat to help him breathe and some large tubes into the backs of his hands, and one in his arm, so that they could replace the blood he'd lost at the scene.

"A quick x-ray showed that the bullet hadn't fractured any bones and a CT scan proved that the blood loss wasn't due to the rupture of any major blood vessels or arteries.

"That meant the trauma team could stabilise his vitals and send him to me for the repair job. I won't get too technical right now, there'll be time enough for that once the surgical resident takes over his care once he's settled into ICU, so the simple explanation for the need for surgery is that the bullet sliced through his liver.

"I know that sounds scary but it was a simple thing to fix in Seth's case. I've stitched the laceration on both sides, and the entry wound, and I'm happy with his blood pressure and the stability of his other vital signs so I've released him to the ICU for care."

"Thank you," mom sobs as she grabs for his hand and squeezes.

"It was absolutely my pleasure," he says gently, squeezing her hand right back. "Now, I don't want you to worry or be frightened when you see him in ICU. He's had the breathing tube removed now that the surgery is complete but I've left the nasogastric tube in. That's so that we can give him some food and fluids straight into his belly so that the swelling to his liver, and from the surgical incision, don't impair his stomach and renal function while they heal.

"The tubes in his hands are pretty big, and it'll look a bit confronting at first because one of them is connected to a machine that's pumping some extra blood into his system for a few more hours, but that will be one of the first things we remove over the coming days.

"We're going to keep the other one in his other hand so we can give him pain relief and what we call a paralytic drug to keep him asleep through the worst of the pain. He's not in a coma, I promise you that, but he won't be able to wake up on his own until we stop giving him that drug. Alright?" he asks.

We both nod, our heads swimming with information and fear. "Can we see him now?" mom asks.

"Let me go and check that the nurses have him all settled in and then I'll take you to him. Sit tight," he tells us and we watch him walk away down the hall before turning into another corridor.

We're quiet for a minute and then mom turns to me. "He made it," she sighs.

"He's tough," I remind her.

"I wish the two of you had stuck with ballroom dancing. Much safer and you were so good as a team," she sighs.

I laugh. I can't help it. "We're still a team, mom," I remind her. "And after this I'll make sure he wears a vest. I'll bedazzle it myself if you want," I chuckle.

**Emmett POV**

I know to be quiet when I go into the room but I can't help the tiny bark of surprise that escapes my throat when I find not only Ed in the bed but Bella too.

She's asleep; he's staring at me with wide eyes as I move to the side of the bed.

"You alright?" I whisper when I get there.

"Sore," he says quietly, his eyes crunching up in what I think might be serious pain.

"You need me to get someone to give you some juice?" I ask, pointing to the tube coming out of the back of his hand.

He shakes his head and I have to wonder at the wisdom of not accepting pain meds. It makes me wonder if he's alright mentally. I've seen the tapes from the house so I know he remembers things now, but I don't know yet what effect the remembering has had on his brain.

I'm lost in thought when he gasps out a short sentence, "Have we lost everyone?"

I pull the chair to the side of the bed and make sure he can see my eyes as I speak. "No, buddy. We haven't, thankfully. They're pretty banged up but it looks like they're going to be okay."

"Seth?" he manages to ask before coughing shallowly, which wakes Bella at his side.

"Hey, sweetheart," I tell her softly as she turns over to face me. I gratefully take the hand she offers me and rub my thumb over it as I fill them in on what I know. "They're both out of surgery and Jasper was awake and joking with Alice last I heard. Seth's not awake yet but Leah and his mom were allowed in to see him just now, so that's got to be good."

They're both quiet as they take in the news. Bella cries quietly, burying her face in the pillow for a moment. Ed stares up at the ceiling but doesn't make a sound.

The silence gets awkward and I decide to leave them to rest so I get to my feet, drop Bella's hand with another pat, and make my way around the foot end of the bed.

"How'd this happen?" Edward croaks before I get much further.

"Let's leave that for now," I reply gently. "I only know what I've seen on the tapes from the house and bits and pieces from after emergency crews got there. Seth knows some things that I can't tell you, Jasper too and Bella knows more than all of us. When everyone's up to it we'll put all the pieces together as a group, alright?"

"No," Bella sighs and as I'm about to protest she continues. "We'll put the pieces together as a family, won't we Em?"

"Yeah, we will," I tell her as emotion begins to well up inside me. I tamp that shit down as best I can for the time being. I know the debriefing is going to be rough and I want them both to have a little more time before things get heavy again. "I can buy you a little more time to just be, but you're both going to have to make a statement soon."

"Rose has to be there with us all when we do," Bella insists firmly.

"If that's what you want," I agree. "But can I ask why?"

"In case it's too much and he shifts," she whispers, but I catch it.

It's something I've thought about a lot since viewing the tapes. Was I ever going to see James or Rupert again I wonder as I stare at him. "Ed?" I ask, hoping he'll know what I mean.

"Don't know," comes his gasping reply.

"We'll work it out," I assure them both and leave them to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. **

**Please review. **


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